


The Portrait

by fanwork12345



Series: What could have been . . . [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Character Death, Gen, If you like Rhaegar don't read this, Mentions of Death, Not Rhaegar friendly, Post-Rebellion Story, mention of suicide in 8th chapter, only mention but still, possible murder, robert bent the knee, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanwork12345/pseuds/fanwork12345
Summary: Jon snow POV, about the Targaryen family trying to rule, elia's death consequence.
Relationships: Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: What could have been . . . [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724029
Comments: 133
Kudos: 151





	1. The First Lady of the Realm

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of childhood traumatic events, mentions of violence and death. Kind of dark(ish). i'm sorry, second fic but I can't sleep.

Prince Jon Targaryen was uneasy.

It was true he had always been more of a cautious nature and the Red Keep was not all gardens and feasts but still the feeling was starting to eat away at him. _It's just because of tomorrow_ he thought distractedly as he walked along the corridor for no particular purpose. Ser Oswell Whent walked a few paces behind, the constant shadow. He saw Egg up ahead who was smiling and nodding politely at Mace Tyrell who was puffing along beside him while regaling him with some long winded speech. Jon had to supress a smile at his brother's latest attempt to avoid interaction with the man whilst not offending him. His latest tactic was to walk as quickly as possible with his long legs in hopes to tire out Mace Tyrell who was past his prime. He strode quickly up to them and broke in, "Egg," he said joyfully, belatedly remembering Rhaenys instruction to not call him that in front of high ranking courtiers, so they should always see him as who he needed to be seen as, Aegon Targaryen, the crown prince of the seven kingdoms. Egg didn't seem to mind though, in fact he shot him a grateful smile and carried on walking to his apartments. "Aaah Prince Jon," Mace Tyrell puffed his cheeks going gradually from blush pink to scarlet as neither prince refused to slow pace, "I was just telling your dear brother about Margaery's newest charity . . . " he prattled on, completely unaware that both of them had zoned out of my-daughter-should-be-the-next-future-queen speech which they had already heard a dozen times before. He finally got the hint once they reached Eggs' door and walked away his chest puffed out.

"By the seven, that man!" Egg swore in good humour. He began to get dressed whilst the kingsguard stayed outside. For dinner, Jon realised and he felt the uneasiness creep back over him.

"Is that any way to talk about your future father? Your wife's qualities are endless it seems." Jon teased, glad of the distraction.

"Nothing set in stone." Egg reminded him, his voice suddenly weary. Jon was surprised, he thought Margaery had made a positive impression with her big, brown eyes and shy smiles. Seeing his expression Egg said, "She's wonderful, she plays her part wonderfully anyway, as I do, I suppose." The moment passed and Egg brightened again with his characteristic bright smile. Unbidden, the memory of Egg leaping out of the carriage on the way back from Aunty Elia's funeral service in the Great Sept to buy some sugary sweet rolls, dusted with white sugar from some random market seller on the road. They had been one of Aunty Elia's favourites. They weren't as nice as the ones in the castle and some of the sugar had blown away in the piercing wind but still it had been the first time he and Rhaenys had smiled all day. He could see her now, her black curls flecked and lips lined with dustings of sugar. That was the last time he had seen her with her hair down- no wait he thought it was later on when the portrait was revealed. . .

Egg was waving his hand in front of his face, the fond smile on his face. "Brooding again little brother?" Jon swatted him, pushing the portrait out of his mind. That was Egg, bringing joy to everyone. Suddenly Jon really understood Rhaenys insistence about shattering this joyful child image. _The iron throne will cut that child to pieces._ "Are you okay? I mean about the whole betrothal options?" he asked. He wanted to be their for Egg, to be available for him.

"Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry. I'll look for someone a little bit more empty-headed. That will please Rhae. No competition for my number one advisor." he smiled, sifting through papers. Jon hadn't considered Eggs' wife upsetting the balance established for years. Rhaenys had been advising (or bossing Egg like to say) since always. Everyone thought it was just her being a big sister but Jon knew better, he knew all the thankless work on the small council was for. That night floated again into his mind, he heard her soft childlike weeps, the smell of sweat and sickness . . .

"Aren't you going to get ready? Dinner is within the hour. The King seemed very keen. Your mother too." Egg remarked, searching for a book on his cluttered desk.

"Umm yes, can I take Ser Arthur?" he asked.

"So you can brood together?"

"Yes well I need something to do until the event of the week."

"Of course. See you there."

Walking quickly, with Arthur trailing reluctantly behind he made his way to Aunty Elia's chambers. Who cares what he wore anyway? The farces of these strange private meals his parents sometimes insisted on continued to confuse him. All five of them rarely dined together and it was usually a relief when it was over. _It's for tomorrow. To plan and prepare appearances._ He could feel Arthur's reluctance as they reached the door. There was an unspoken agreement that they never really mentioned this. It wasn't a secret, he only came very rarely but when he did, he didn't want his parents to know. They probably did with the spider lurking around, Egg too but it was never talked about. He opened the door and stepped inside. The portrait hung in a gold embossed frame with strange, intricate carvings in the middle of the wall. It depicted Princess Elia Martell, at an angle, looking over her left shoulder in a beautiful dress. Her dark eyes and smile portrayed a kindly expression and the artist had emphasised her thick, black curls which tumbled around her shoulders. A gold band on her brow with an amber jewel and a locket her only decoration. It was exactly the same as it was this morning except her daughter stood before it, lost in thought. Jon was taken aback. He had never seen her here before alone in all these years and felt an absurd spark of resentment. It was stupid, coming here to think and sometimes speak to it. It was just nice to be alone, away from it all but she had the _right_ , not him and he was an intruder, just like last year when she had shown it to Jaime Lannister, the only time he had seen her go near it and with _him_ of all people. Jon had followed them to fetch them, any chance to escape that certain dinner. Jaime had stared at it too, like her lost in a world only they could recall. "It is perfection," he had whispered quietly to Rhaenys, " apart from the band of gold, it should be a crown."

"A crown of gold?" she had asked so quietly.

"Perhaps or perhaps winter roses." he had smiled down at her, his golden, arrogant face full of softness. A sharp pain had ripped through his body and he had silently left them to it.

Of course Rhaenys wasn't completely alone, she was a princess. Jaime Lannister's gift skulked by the bed. Brienne of Tarth was smoothing the covers, facing away from her charge as if to give her privacy. She stood up when she saw him and bowed. "Prince Jon." she mumbled, still after a year unused to courtesies of court. _Her so called sworn shield but no kingsguard. The King will not be happy._ _Then again it is Rhaenys, if anyone can placate him, it will be her._ "Hello Jon, " Rhaenys said without turning around, "Shall we go to dinner?" He didn't answer, he didn't have to. Of course he would accompany his own sister. His kind, generous, beautiful sister. Looking at her now, his doubts drowned in the ridiculousness of his suspicions. _It is only because of tomorrow. Such a big day. Tomorrow the Starks will come to the red keep for the first time since the war, tomorrow Stark children will run through the halls, tomorrow his mother would get her hearts desire._ As he took her arm, he tried to focus on other things, the visit and Sam, oh he must ask her now before the dinner about Sam. He didn't think about the feast last year, or that night that had smelt of death, or this strange feeling of uneasiness. She couldn't be the cause. He remembered that night last year after he had returned to the feast and escorted his very drunk mother ( a rare occasion) to his parents bedchamber. "A ghost Jon. A ghost has walked among us." she giggled hysterically and then began to cry. She picked up her shoe and hurled it at one of the smaller paintings of Elia, hung cradling baby Aegon. "Did you see her?" she called out. At first Jon thought he meant him and he wondered how to answer. Truthfully there had been a few seconds when he thought Rhaenys had been her mother but it was Arthur who answered.

"Yes your grace."

"yes your grace." Lyanna mocked as tears slid down her face. "I did nothing . . " she began mumbling. Arthur face looked to be carved out of stone.

"Mother, get into bed." Jon said as gently as possible. He was a little embarrassed and in unfamiliar territory, his mother didn't really drink, especially to this extent. He also wanted to go back and see the portrait again. Alone. It was like it was singing to him.

"And danced, the ghost danced with the lion . . hmm Jenny will dance with her ghosts. your father sang that for me. Did you hear that?" the last bit directed at Arthur with a surprising bite of venom. "For me.. did you see her in swirls of red, gold and orange? Oh it's about that dratted cat. STILL! That cat. No cats have loyalty Jon, remember, same for vipers. It is wolves. . . you are a wolf. Promise me? A wolf . with a pack. I love you. Oh so much. That cat. I did nothing. . .nothing." She was slipping off into sleep but Jon heard her last mumble and for some reason it had started the uneasiness, "That girl. . . yes . . . the first lady of the realm."


	2. The Summer Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reflects and the family dinner goes as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and commented. Warnings still might apply.

"Can I ask you something?" Jon asked, breaking the peaceful silence. When they were walking together like this was when Rhaenys reminded him most of the king, they both seem to glide and think in deep silences when alone or with someone they trusted. He felt clumsy beside them and hated to break it but he needed help.

"Of course."

"It's Sam. Samwell Tarly." Sam had been fostering with them for years. Growing up lords and ladies had pushed their sons and daughters on the royal children in hopes for favour. From an early age Jon had learned he was either second best due to not being the princes heir or people wanted to use him to get to the heir. And then there had been the others, knowing the was the child of the King's favourite wife who perhaps saw a Daemon Blackfyre shaped opportunity. Those were the worst courtiers. There had been a stream of young sons and Jon had liked some of them well enough though he was always wary of them trying to push a wedge between him and his most beloved companions: his siblings. It had gotten worse due to Sam actually, he had been the one to explain Daemon Blackfyre and how some lords seen him as a bastard or a bastard that could be used to gain power. Jon had been very upset and when Lord Tarly had found them and saw how his son had disturbed the young prince had chastised him in a way that had made Jon want to run and hide under his bed. He had gone running but instead had ran straight into Aunty Elia. She had been walking, talking in hushed tones with some important looking people but one look at his tear-stained face and she had sent them away. They had gone to her chamber, back then it had been full of colour and life , with flowers blooming in vases,smelling scents and silken drapes. After dismissing everyone, she made him some of this sweet tea from Dorne with a selection of biscuits, lemon cakes and sugar rolls and had waited patiently looking out of the window until he had calmed down enough to tell her everything.

"Do you like him? Would you like him to stay?" she had asked. Jon had blinked and thought carefully. He did like him he realised. Sam was shy and bookish to a fault but he was also kind and honest in a way lots of others weren't. "Yes but . . .he's not a warrior though." Jon hedged. Weren't princes supposed to be friends with great warriors or knights to ride into battle with? As much as he now despised Lord Tarly, he undeniably spoke the truth when he had dismissed his sons martial ability. Aunty Elia had smiled and tilted her head, like she was reading the thoughts behind his words. "There are warriors aplenty Jon. A wise prince finds friends that can offer different things. Would you like him to stay with us?"

"Yes but his father would never let it happen." Jon replied miserably. Part of his shouting rage had made it clear that Sam's "lessons" , whatever that meant would begin in earnest once he got home again. "Let me worry about that. I'll fix it." she had said and opened her arms. Hugging her, he remembered thinking she could fix anything as he inhaled that special flowery scent. And she had, to this day he didn't know what she had done but Sam had stayed and remained his closest friend while his father had returned home. But he had returned, like a dark cloud that would always hover at the edge of a clear, blue sky and he was unimpressed with Sam who had only grown fatter and more bookish. But Aunty Elia was gone, six years now, had left this world in a darkened room full of sorrow and pain and soft weeping . . .

"So he will not allow Sam to join the Citadel? He has the mind to be a great Maester." Rhaenys asked after Jon had explained his predicament. Jon smile at the thought of Sam's face at that compliment, especially from Rhaenys. "No," he said passionately after the image had flashed by. "He says no Tarly should wear a chain. I mean it's ridiculous. Sam would be a much better Lord. His mind would be wasted at the watch . . . not that it is not a noble choice of course." He could imagine his mother's expression at Jon's objection to the watch. _The Starks have always been friends of the watch, Jon._ It was one of the many facts he had absorbed of the family he had never met. But the watch was so far and Sam despised the cold. He would be so unhappy. "Lord Tarly cannot do this. I was thinking a word perhaps to Lord Tyrell. He is only a vassal after all." He looked to her anxiously as she considered.

"Lord Tarly is a vassal but he is a dangerous man. You are right though, the watch is not the place for him. Does Sam want to rule or would he prefer the books?" she asked him staring thoughtfully ahead.

"I'm not sure."

"Find out. Ruling Horn Hill has traditionally been the lives of great warriors it is true." Her tone was neutral so he couldn't gage whether she agreed or disagreed with this tradition.

"There is not too much time though. He wants Sam to renounce it in front of the court and ask to attend the starks when they return to the North. Once he's done that . . ." he trailed off.

"We don't even know how long the Starks will stay." Again her tone was neutral. " I will ask Lord Tarly to help inspect the gold cloaks and other tasks to distract him. Don't worry, I'll fix it." She turned and smiled at him and squeezed his hand. For a second it was like he had fallen back through time and he was seven again with a mouth full of sugar and that strange scent. The words echoed almost eerily in his mind and he was reminded of his mother last year : _a ghost, she walks among us._

They had arrived at the private chamber the family used to dine when they wanted an intimate setting. Usually it was to flatter some courtier who thought they'd breached the inner circle but tonight it was family time. It was small but richly furnished with tasteful artwork and mahogany furniture. A chandelier hung over the table but the room was lit all around by flickering candles as if too offset the room which had little natural light. The King sat at the head of the table, his wife at the other end and Egg sat between them on the right. Jon noticed the extra place setting and his heart sank. It was probably Jon Connington, his namesake as some suggested. That or Jon Arryn. Between the old hand and the new one he knew which he preferred. Jon Arryn had been a kind, sensible presence before his death though it was the other that was the king's true friend. There had been a lot of gossiping recently about the upcoming Stark visit. He had overheard in the stables about the last time Lord Stark visited. How his mother had been full of tearful apology. How she had wanted to name him Brandon but her brother had recoiled. Recoiled was the word the knight had used. It had hurt. His friend had went further saying that Lord Stark had wanted to strangle her. Jon doubted that. He couldn't wait to meet his uncle who bought such a lovely smile to his face. Even if he hadn't wanted him to carry on Uncle Brandon's name, he was coming here which meant his position must of softened at least a little.

"Your late. The food taster has already tried everything. Rhaenys please sit on my right. Jon sit next to your mother." the King commanded. They both did as they were bid though Jon's heart sank a little deeper. He would be sat with Connington who had no love or time for him. His brooding silences were often uncomfortable and Jon felt a strange need o fill them by attempting to start conversation which was never his strong point. Egg grinned at him, reading his thoughts. Hopefully the Hand would just look t o the King as he often did. His loyalty and love for the King could not be doubted Jon had to admit. Turning to his mother s he began eating some lovely roasted pork he was pleased to see her looking so happy. In fact she was almost glowing. "A great day tomorrow Jon." she said softly running her hands through her hair. He smiled back at her.

"Yes." The King echoed but with the same detached tone he usually had, as if he wasn't all present with them in this moment.

"I have it all prepared. We will welcome them in the morning and have a tour in the day with a grand feast at night. . ." she was almost babbling with happiness and he detected a hint of pride. It was really Rhaenys who organised things like this. Rhaenys who greeted guests. Rhaenys who directed the feasts and balls. _The first lady of the realm._ The phrase haunted him as he had heard it before from Sam and one of his passion projects, the Dance of Dragons. But my mother is not Lady Alicent he thought firmly, she is no scheming, southron lady and I am no Aegon II, I may be true born but Egg is the heir. He had worried for no good reason.

"Will your brother like such a big feast on the first day? They have travelled such a long way and he hasn't made this journey in a long time." Rhaenys asked. It was just an innocent question Jon told himself, a way to move the conversation along. His mother's glow dimmed a little.

"I think I know what my own brother would wish. Thank you for your concern though." Lyanna replied and continued describing tomorrow. Jon worried that Rhaenys had a point and did his mother truly know what her brother would want? Many time had she regaled Jon with stories of her family, Winterfell and the north. _Her home she said, using the present tense._ The letters she had received from there over the past few years had been full of brave Robb, Sweet Sansa, Arya's antics, bran the climber and baby Rickon. Jon had felt like he knew them and couldn't wait to meet them. Except when he had chanced a glance at one of the letters, it had clearly been written in a feminine hand with swooping curly script of a highborn lady. But what did it matter? Jon thought determined to keep the buoyant mood afloat. If Lady Catelyn replied to his mothers letters instead of her husband? Uncle Eddard was busy ruling the whole North for sevens sake.

"Yes that's very good." The King interrupted. "As long as everyone is respectful and civilised it should be a good day."

"What kind of wine are we having my lady?" Egg inquired as if the King had not spoken. This was Egg, he could keep the mood afloat, steer away from any danger. "Will your brother enjoy Arbour Gold." Lyanna had been staring at her husband with a fixed expression but willingly accepted Eggs' diversion. Her glow had all but gone though. The meal continued with Egg encouraging Lyanna back to her former spirits as they discussed the differences between Northern ales and the orders that should be placed for wines and hippocras. Rhaenys was deep in thought (Jon hoped about his Sam problem). The King made no attempt at conversation. Jon wondered why his possible namesake hadn't turned up yet.

"We have news, don't we my dear? About tomorrow." The Kings' sudden interruption startled everyone. Lyanna went pale.

"I don't think . . I thought we had discussed and agreed that we wouldn't bring this up before they got here." She had a strange look on her face, all of Eggs' hard work down the drain.

"Well we have to see which of us is correct, don't we?" The challenge hung between them. Lyanna shot a glance at her stepdaughter helplessly.

"A betrothal offer has been made/"

"Well not made, just suggested" Lyanna interjected. The King silenced her with a look and continued.

"A betrothal offer has been made for you Rhaenys. Robert Stark wishes to take you as his bride." Jon felt like he was falling, as if the ground had shifted. He heard Eggs' sharp intake of breath and looked across at him, he had never seen his brother look so stricken.

"You shall be the Lady of Winterfell." The King had a curious expression on his face that Jon knew he could never decipher. His father the walking enigma. The thought was a bitter one.

The silence was suffocating. Rhaenys looked at her father and then at his wife. A memory tugged at the back of his mind. _The cat. . .the cat. It's lifeless body and the purring mewls of the new kitten. Yes the kitten, all black too. The strange emptiness on her face._

"Rhaegar," His mother's voice had a renewed strength.

"I will not lie to my daughter. The North wishes for the Princess of Summer."


	3. Little Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fallout of the dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of a traumatic event. mentions of violence, incest and war. I've read this nickname for Rhaenys before on a fic but I can't remember which anyway credit to whoever came up with it. Any suggestions or feedback is welcome. I wish I had used less Jons to be honest.

The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly. Jon's confused tumult of emotions and thoughts raced through his mind. Robert Stark? Brave, honourable Robb from the letters? His pictures of him in his mind, of his tall cousin with dark hair dusted with snow had never included his sister. Rhaenys, the Lady of Winterfell? It was so absurd, so unexpected, Rhaenys who always shut the chamber windows to keep out the cold? He tried to picture her at Winterfell, his mother's beloved home and came up blank. All this seem to sum itself up in Rhaenys' answer,

"No." Her voice was quiet, calm and controlled. It was the voice she used during council meetings, to gain respect from visitors in formal situations, it was the voice she had used when the King and Queen had given her a new kitten. _Black. Just like the other one my darling._

"You have your mother's beauty Rhaenys, but she knew her duty. I too did not want to marry but we put our desires aside. That is what it means to be royalty. I have let you grow up with much freedom. But you are nearly eighteen, it has long been past time for your marriage." The King met the intense stare of his daughter. It was as if him, his mother and his brother had become as much as part of the room as the table or chairs, part of the surroundings but inanimate.

"It is what your mother would have wanted."

"Do not speak of her. " There was a crack in the façade, a ripple of anger. "Not now. She is not here and you do not speak with her voice. Let us discuss the matter at hand, why do you wish to sell me to the wolves?" The calmness was back but the words were bitter. Jon wondered what Aunty Elia would have said. She had hated the cold too he remembered like Rhaenys and Daenerys and always kept a roaring fire in her chambers. He thought of the portrait, those dark painted eyes. Would they have widened in delight or narrowed in disgust? Jon felt he knew the answer. He looked to his mother and felt the heavy stone of betrayal in his stomach. _How long has she known? She must know this is not what Rhaenys would want? The first lady of the realm . . ._ But there was no triumph in Lyanna's expression, only sadness, a little confusion and Jon's familiar friend unease.

"I have been distracted of late. The prophecy's study has kept me occupied but I haven't forgotten you, little sun." Rhaenys flinched at the nickname as if he had struck her. "it has been pointed out to me that this freedom has not bore any fruit. There is no man who has charmed you? All men that come here would desire your hand yet you remain reticent with your affections. You spend all your time at the council or with Tyrion Lannister." His voice made it clear what he thought of that.

Last year when the great feast had been held in Kings Landing, to celebrate the return of spring it had been the most spectacular event since Harrenhall, certainly since Queen Elia's death. All the great houses had been invited, even the Martell's (though the invitation was explicitly for the princess Arianne, the wife of the late but not very much mourned Viserys). She had attended and bent the rules and bought several of her cousins too though her father and uncle stayed at home to the King's relief. The only ones not too were noticeably the Starks. It had soured any good humour his mother had had towards the feast. At first she had been excited when Lady Catelyn had informed them they were coming but it soon twisted to misery when Bran became sick and they had sent a letter instead of themselves. Jon had felt terribly sad for his mother but also held a small kernel of annoyance. This was the greatest event for years and Rhaenys had put so much effort into planning while his mother drifted around, completely loosing interest. Somehow despite the Stark disappointment the night at first had managed to meet it's incredible expectation. After a day of festival and revelry in the streets, Rhaenys and Egg had designed a great ball to be held in the great hall. After courses of delicious food, music from singers across the known world began from soulful melodies in strange languages to bawdy classics.

And then Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock had walked in.

Prince Jon instantly knew the Kingslayer who had murdered his grandfather. Who had saved his sister by stabbing the monster Amory Lorch. Whose white cloak already stained with the blood of the king he had sworn to protect. Who had taken command and ordered the Mountain's death, it had taken ten mean to slay that inhuman beast, saving Aunty Elia and Egg from death. Who had sat on the iron throne when greeting the now King with the Queen by his side. The prince hadn't known exactly what had happened but he had been pardoned in exchange for his cloak and had swept back to his seat whilst his father's head rotted on a spike. His sister was wed to Robert Baratheon to compensate for his lost love. Apart from visits to Storms End he barely left the castle. People said he had gone mad, that the betrayal of his oath had sent him spinning down into darkness. He gave guests hospitality but never attended feasts or dinners or tourneys. He was rarely seen, a recluse even in his own castle, only seeing his siblings which only made him more fascinating. Prince Jon had been filled with complete excitement, the Kingslayer had come here for the first time since the Aunty Elia's death.

The excitement had soon curdled though. He had heard about his famous good looks but he hadn't realise had much he looked like his sister who Jon heartily disliked. They also shared the same arrogant expression and haughty superiority as he just strolled in with a tall, lumbering woman and his dwarf brother as if they were all sitting around expecting him. His mother and father, who had been so happy, so joyous, their cheer almost a visible glow seem to dim as he swaggered towards them. The music continued but most stood open mouthed at such an appearance and he just kept walking towards them, his eyes scanning the dais. "He's looking for Rhae." Egg said. "She didn't mention he was coming, I mean he was invited but still, why today?"

"How would she know if he came?" Jon has asked, still a little dazed.

"From their letter writing." Egg replied distractedly, craning his neck in search of his sister who had gone to get dressed after Cersei had managed to spill wine over both her and her cousin Lady Nym. Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan straightened visibly as they got closer, the latter obviously displeased. Ser Jaime sent them a mocking smile that made Jon's hackles rise.

"Your Grace. I'm sorry I'm late. May I present my brother Tyrion of House Lannister and Brienne, the Maid of Tarth." Brienne glared at him for that introduction but bowed along with the others.

"Welcome my lord. We had not known if you were to come today but our hearts are gladdened to see you." The King's courtesy was impeccable and Jon was annoyed to see the intruders mocking smile deepen.

"Excuse me but may I ask after your companion, is she your wife or your brother's wife perhaps?" his mother had asked, a little doubtful and a little confused.

"She is a gift." Lord Jaime answered vaguely, gone back to searching while his brother teased the Lady Brienne about their romance.

"Like one between a mountain and a pebble." he said flourishing his arms like a romantic poet. Jon felt his annoyance deepen, everything had been going so well apart from Cersei's "accident" and really that was something they'd all laugh about once she left. Lord Jaime hadn't looked at his mother once. _She is the queen!_ How dare he.

"A gift, you do remember we have no slaves in Westeros, don't you?" the Queen said to a few lickspittle's canned laughter. Inside Jon had winced, it was a jape yet it had come out too sharply and loudly. So far their conversation had been rather contain, the spectacle was over and people had begun to return to dancing and jesting while the music played louder than ever which Jon was sure was on purpose but a few people near them again focused their attention. His mother had never been a natural with courtly life, like himself and now she registered her mistake, her cheeks flushed, clashing with her scarlet gown. Again the Kingslayer didn't look at her, it was as if she was nothing, as if they were all nothing. This had never happened before. Lord Tyrion a man with much more courtesy Jon decided promised that she was no slave and the woman question nodded in agreement. Brienne was Jon had to admit very ugly, tall and seemed very uncomfortable, fiddling with her sword belt. She wore a sword? Prince Jon felt they had all too much to drink. Everyone in his family seemed a bit dazzled as if a bright light had shone directly into their eyes.

"Who's it for?" Jon Connington asked.

"Hmmm" answered Lord Jaime even though Jon was pretty sure he had heard him.

"I said who is the gift for?" the griffin lord snapped back.

"The King's daughter." From the tone it was if that should have been obvious. He still wasn't looking at them.

"Princess Rhaenys?" Lord Jon's voice was inflected with genuine surprise as he considered Lady Brienne.

"Well the King only has the one daughter, doesn't he." It was the Kingslayer's tone that confirmed to Jon he knew exactly what he had just said. It was sugar sweet, just dripping with honey and that cutting smile. Even his brother glared at him and stepped on his foot as if to warn him not to cross this line. _So he knows then, about the prophecy, about what happened. Perhaps he knows about the miscarriages too. All those attempts for Visenya. About me, the great disappointment._ He saw his mother flinch and his protective , aggressive instincts reared up until he felt Eggs' calm, steadying hand on his shoulder. Jon genuinely didn't know what would have happened if Rhaenys hadn't made her entrance at that moment.

She came in from one of the doors at the back, walking down the steps with that strange nameless grace only she had inherited from their father. It was that way of moving that had snapped Jon out of the strange trance he had been in for a few seconds because for those seconds he understood what his mother would later drunkenly tell him. _A ghost._ Rhaenys hadn't worn her hair down since the portrait reveal, ever since then it had been a simple braid, or more intricate ones if Daenerys could convince her otherwise but now tendrils framed her glowing face and her usual dark dresses had been swapped for a confection of red, orange and gold. She had never worn those colours. She had never been so eye catchingly beautiful. She had never looked so much like her mother.

People parted before her like the sea.

Once those few seconds had passed, Jon had felt himself foolish, as if a portrait could come to life! But no one else seem to relax. The Kingslayer's face had split into a smile which wasn't welcoming exactly but much softer than the cutting one. Egg had gone very pale. Lyanna poured herself another glass of wine. Lord Jon frowned. Arianne laughed a full, rich laugh. It was the King though that had made him truly uneasy. He didn't stop staring at her. Not when she floated over and welcomed the new guests. Not when she embraced the Kingslayer like an old friend (Rhaenys? Who rarely liked to be touched by people she didn't know.) Not when she received her "gift."

"I have found her, a true protector as per your mother's last wish." That made no sense to Jon. He knew the Kingslayer had visited Aunty Elia briefly on her deathbed though he couldn't remember him but he had heard nothing about any final death wish. Eggs face though which had been a little mistrustful cleared up and he smiled at the picture as if this was a normal occurrence. People went back to dancing, feasting and laughing. Rhaenys was delighted. She turned to her father and climbed up the steps to greet him. She had never looked so happy greeting him. Jon had once asked Egg years ago why they were so cold with each other and Egg had blinked and told him he was imagining things and not to mention such things accompanying with a comforting hug. Yet as Jon had grown he knew he wasn't making things up. Perhaps coldness had been the wrong word but there had certainly been a distance there. A cool, careful distance. That night though her smile could have inspired endless poetry. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Her father stared at her and grabbed her arm, his usual melodic voice had gone hoarse and quiet and Jon had been eternally grateful for all the background din so only a few heard what he said. "Elia?" The King and Queen shared little love for drinking however that night had been a special occasion so they had indulged a little but still to say it aloud was completely different than thinking it for a few seconds. He must have drunk more than I thought he told himself. "You even smell as you used too." He took her hand and kissed it. Rhaenys who Jon had always seen as unflappable backed away slightly. "I must go and dance now, Father." She emphasised that last word and kissed his cheek. Then she let the Kingslayer lead her to the middle of the floor and they twirled and span like radiant butterflies, her shiny curls spinning out of their loose half up hair do. All the time the King fixed them an unmoving stare. No look or word could reach him. It was as pointed and focused as one of those pins butterfly catchers used to pin their treasures on ugly boards, in a gross display of beauty hunting. Jon had heard his father promise his mother a second dance after they had opened the ball, they had been as happy as he had ever seen them despite the Starks absence, giggling and teasing. Now it was as if they were strangers. when Jenny's song came on it somehow got worse. He became as still as a statue and his wife had looked imploringly at him and then sighed and poured herself another cup. The King's eyes did not leave the centre of the ballroom long even after the couple had disappeared to view the portrait with Lady Brienne, as if he could still see them spinning around there. _Had Aunty Elia danced with Kingslayer like that?_ he thought as he hurried back to fetch them only to overhear something that made him feel more on the outside than ever.

_A crown a winter roses. . . I am alive because of it. . . in a way I owe my existence too it._

The tourney today they had not crowned Rhaenys in Winter roses but rather a jumble of sweet smelling posies. _Winter roses._ They had seemed so romantic in the tale of Harrenhall. He stopped a nearby page and ordered him to fetch the princess from the portrait. "The portrait?" the nervous page stammered.

"Yes, the portrait of . . . of the Queen. In her apartments. Say they are wanted for the closing dances." he snapped, harsher than he had ever been to any of the servants before. When he returned to the hall, he looked at his unspeaking parents and felt like it was all some cruel joke. The petals had withered and the scent faded. The night had fizzled out, leaving Jon anxious and unhappy. A horrible start to spring he had thought. Rhaenys had enjoyed the night though. After they returned the Kingslayer had danced the night away with his golden twin while her husband fondled a busty serving girl. The princess though hadn't missed his company, spending it discovering Tyrion's wit, and chatting with her new "gift" and Elaena Sand. Finally, in the early hours after dawn the majority of the lords and ladies left so too could he finally leave. He made the way to the dais to help his mother who was significantly drunker than earlier. Rhaenys was stood before the King with the surprise guests though he seem to struggle to focus on her words. "Oh father a sworn shield, like Jonquil for Alysanne. Oh mother would be delighted. Truly Lord Lannister must stay for a while. "

"Yes. . .oh yes." he said distractedly. Jenny's song began to play again. The King took his daughters hand with a dazed expression. "The smell . . oh yes. Lord Lannister you and your companions are welcome for as long as you wish. So are you a knight?" the last question was directed at Brienne. She flushed, not knowing whether to be insulted. He still stared at Rhaenys face while she grinned at Tyrion in delight. The Kingslayer answered, "She is a true one your grace." Again the mocking smile at the men cloaked in white. "The first female knight in all of Westeros. First to smash that boundary. First to ride in a tourney and so on. Well she would have won today I assure you but we arrived to late but at least the queen of love and beauty still got her crown hey and the first female knight." The words were innocent enough but Jon felt his mother tense in his arms and he just knew it was somehow in his slightly drink addled mind a slight against her. His sister though smiled at him and Jon felt the strange pain again. All resentment mixed with confusion and irritation about being left in the dark. What did it all mean? How could Rhaenys smile at his mothers expense?

The king had come to regret his welcoming words but he couldn't take the back so they all watched for a week as Rhaenys laughed with her white knight and dwarf. Whispers spread like wildfire of an engagement and Jon fearing future interaction with the man confronted her a few days later. "Jon" she scolded, " you mustn't listen to gossip." She looked, he was relieved to see like herself, with her simple braid and black and red dress. He still must of looked worried because she had leaned in and whispered, "don't worry, he prefers blondes." She had burst out laughing as if she had said something incredibly amusing. Jon was cross that he again was on he outside. What did that mean? No woman had ever charmed in, no man either? The only woman he interacted with was his sister. How did Rhaenys know these things? How was she always a few steps ahead? It didn't matter anyway as the Kingslayer left within the next week but he left his two companions behind. Apart from Elaena, Egg and himself she had never had a close companion but suddenly they were together almost all the time with Tarth her new constant shadow. Both were much more palatable than the Kingslayer and despite his mothers warnings (Lannister's lie Jon) both he and Egg enjoyed his quick witted company. He sometimes sat as an advisor with the Princess, against the griffins wishes and they spent their days discussing politics. 

_Would Tyrion be such a poor choice? True he is a Lannister but he is a clever one with a good heart, Jon was sure. Rhaenys is comfortable with him like she is with few others and he would never wish to control her. His brother has no heir and has shown no inclination to change that. Lady of Casterly Rock, a fine title indeed. And most importantly of all she would be close, they would stay at court with us . . ._

"Tyrion is my friend and I would rather marry him than some Northern stranger." Rhaenys replied.

"Now, lets everyone remain calm." Lyanna said, pouring herself some wine. "Your father meant no offence but you seem to live in that council chamber. It's not healthy."

"How wold you know, neither of you ever go there?" Rhaenys said her voice still cool.

"Now Rhaenys, that's no way to talk. Nothing has been agreed. Truthfully it seems Lady Catelyn's idea mostly and we don't want to upset Ned. We, well your father and I just wanted you two to meet. he sounds wonderful and Winterfell is so beautiful this time of year, to return there. . ." she trailed off watching her step -daughter. It seemed the longer she watched Rhaenys the face the less unsure the vision became. "Your being unnecessarily difficult. We just want you two to meet and if you like each other, I mean we would never force you into a betrothal. Never. I would never do that to anyone else, we wouldn't, would we darling?" she asked her husband who was looking at his two elder children an indecipherable expression on his face. "Oh Rhaegar, why tell her now? We were having such a lovely dinner. We were going to wait until you have met. I am sure you will love him, he's Ned's son."

"Well Ned should do the smart thing and wed him to a vassal to help strengthen loyalty in the North. You know, help gain allies after all that war business." Rhaenys voice was still calm though her fingers were clenched around her wine stem Jon was sure it would shatter. He like everyone else heard the implication. Make up for all the lives lost for that lie. "A Manderly perhaps, help sate Lady Catelyn's more southron ambitions."

Lyanna flushed. "There is no plots or ambitions. What does that even mean? You see the council has made you paranoid. I told you no-one will force you into anything, right darling? Also the North doesn't need marriages, they have always been more loyal, my father told me that. You will meet him tomorrow and see whether you like him. He has no taste for whores though, Ned has assured me, unlike that friend of yours." Even Rhaenys can't rebuke that Jon admitted.

"Yes, the council it is too much. I have burdened you. it sent your mother to an early grave and you have always been delicate." The king mused to himself. Jon stared at him. Delicate? what was happening? Rhaenys had never been sickly. he looked to Egg but Egg stared ahead unseeing.

"That is not what sent my mother to an early grave and you know it." Rhaenys voice was still quiet but a tremor of rage was thread through it. There was a dangerous silence that Jon prayed would never end.

"How dare you." The King's voice rose.

"I'm sure she didn't mean _that."_ Lyanna jumped in quickly.

" I do not need your permission to search for marital opportunities. I understand if you think the boy is beneath you but you will not repeat filthy gossip. I am the king. I am your father."

"Yes, you are my father. I will never forget that."

"Little Su-"

Jon Connington entered the room. Now? thought Jon wearily. He had lost the grasp on this exchange.

"Have you told the princess the good news? It's very exciting isn't it? I hear Robb is an excellent young man. And Winterfell, what a wonderful household to run. It is a repayment on an old promise you know. A Targaryen Princess. A pact of Ice and Fire. " Jon stared at him, he knew from Sam that was during the civil war era. "You must be so excited to see your childhood home again soon Lady Lyanna, you too Prince Jon. A wonderful opportunity to enjoy the beauty of the North." Jon looked at the Griffin Lord with a sort of detached curiosity. Rarely did he make his true feelings about them so plain. He understood his focus on Egg who was the heir but his intense dislike of everyone else for seemingly no good reason was baffling.

At Jon's enquiring look, his mother flushed. "Well Ned actually hasn't asked in so many words but still it's common courtesy, a formality. And the correct address is your grace."

"You will not be going North." The King said, "neither shall Jon, there is too much to do right now." Among everything that had happened, that rejection of his possible Winterfell visit still stung. The Queen and Hand had identical faces of surprise and misery.

"My place is here, with my brothers, on the council." Rhaenys stood up as if to leave. In a sort of faraway sense Jon remembered that night, Aunty Elia's last and the conversation he was never meant to overhear. . . His father didn't know, what this all meant to Rhaenys, but Jon did.

"You will be greatly missed Princess." Connington assured her.

"It is not an agreement." Lyanna snapped "And why did you know of this? We were not going to tell her today."

Rhaenys ignored her and stared at Connington. Lesser men would have quailed. "I have underestimated you, I will not again." she promised. Lord Jon looked unmoved. There was a small part of Jon that felt comforted by this exchange, it was familiar _. Rhaenys and him had never gotten along, there is no way she prefers him to Lord Arryn. That is proof in itself she had nothing to do with his death. The unease lifted a little._

"Leave us Jon." the king commanded and so he did.

"Little Sun," the nickname held no affection at that moment. _Jon remembered Aunty Elia and her whispered_ , _wheezing breathes that night . . "Little sun, sweetling come here, we must talk. . ._ The King continued, "You have lied to me." The accusation caused his mother's earlier confusion and uneasiness to return.

The King had a way of looking at people as if he was asking some kind of unknowable question and whatever he saw in the other person's eyes seemed to disappoint him. He even did it with his own children sometimes and Jon hated it. Now it seemed to have gone one step further and he ahis daughter were having a conversation without words. Truly only Rhaenys was his equal when it came to intense stares but this was getting ridiculous. "Trant." she said finally, her voice full of contempt.

"I am the King, they are the Kingsguard they are mine to command. You think I have no reports?"

"I assumed they were guards not spies. Silly me."

The King seemed displeased with the answer and beckoned Ser Arthur forward. "he has told me you and Lannister were planning some sort of sewage reform or something." Rhaenys looked at Ser Arthur with a bitter, mocking smile not unlike the Kingslayer's and he seemed unable to meet her gaze. "Aren't you going to answer him? Do your duty? The sewage rebuilding is crucial. The health of the city needs to improve. I would have told you all this when I got a proposal together. I'm still looking at the costs. I was not hiding it from you." The King still seem unimpressed.

"Ser Arthur what were my children discussing on the way here?"

"Samwell Tarly, your grace." His answer was reluctant but it still stung.

"Sam?" The Queen asked, confused.

"You see now, Little Sun. You should never have kept such a thing. Our era is dawning."

"Right. We have a long day tomorrow so I think we should retire before things are said that we all regret. "Egg spoke up and Jon almost started. He had forgotten Egg was there, truthfully he had forgotten himself in all this mess. Trant? That sly knight with Daenerys at Summerhall? Rhaenys leaving? Era? What did it all mean?

"Yes, a big day, a great day." Lyanna said gratefully.

"Arthur escort the princess to her room." the King commanded then he stood up and strode off without another word.

Prince Jon exited the room and debated following Egg who was following their father. He decided not to bother. What use am I anyway? What part do I play? he thought miserably. The moonlight shone through the windowed corridor. Up ahead he heard his sister, her voice calm and full of resolve.

"The next time you report on me to my father tell him only my mother calls me Little Sun."


	4. The Dragon's Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Starks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings still apply. Any feedback welcome.  
> I know the Robb marriage doesn't make sense, it wasn't supposed too but someone commented and gave me the idea of Edmure Tully to like dangle there instead (also for Lyanna to think she can make it all work, get Rhaenys married to a good guy and bring her family closer together so thanks to that person. It is going to become more and more anti-rhaegar, so anyone doesn't like that please don't read. Also if anyone has any ideas about what should happen, I have some vague ones, I don't think this fic is going to be too much longer, maybe a few chapters. Heads up, this isn't a great chapter, it more sets up stuff. Next time Jon's finally going to demand some answers from the person that sees almost everything while his brother and sister plot a way out.

Jon stared at the split in the corridor, one passage led to his mother, the other led to his sister. It felt very metaphorical. Whent shifted slightly behind him. He stiffened slightly remembering last nights words, _I thought they were guards, not spies._ In an a way he had always known the Kingsguard obeyed his father in every command, it was in the name and the ones he had grown up with had always been dutiful but it had been shocking to know that these shadows who he thought had cared for him his whole life could betray him just like that. It wasn't if he ever did anything illegal but still the feeling of being exposed till hadn't been shaken.

It was an hour after dawn yet he knew both would be up. He hadn't forgotten Rhaenys' expression, he could picture her seething fury right now. And his mother, well this was the day she had been waiting for since he could remember. He could hear the badly supressed longing in her voice when she spoke of her family and her home. She rarely spoke of Brandon and her father but Jon felt he knew everything about "Ned," Benjen, and the towering Winterfell. Jon sometimes even dreamt of it and it was always full of snow fights, swordplay and laughter but then he would wake up in his real bed and his real family and feel foolish. He had never really _wanted_ anything. He knew his father wanted the prophecy and all those mysteries in his old, dusty books. He knew Rhaenys wanted power. Despite her last promise to her mother, he could tell she liked being in charge, in control. He wasn't sure about Egg, what did he want most in this world? Before he knew it, his legs were moving towards his mother's chambers. He could still hear he from last night, _why do you have to ruin it? She needed this. I'll go to Rhaenys after._

He knew after last night Lyanna would have slept apart from her husband and his instinct was right. She was sat in the middle of her room, dressed in a lovely dapple grey and white dress with all of her letters from the North fanning out around her. There was something oddly childlike about it and his heart constricted slightly. _Today had to go well, it had too._

"Hello Mother." he said.

"Oh hello Jon. I was just . . .well they'll be here soon. It's going to be glorious. Tell me do you think I should get the kitchen to roast some extra birds? I think Ned mentioned in passing that one of his sons couldn't stand pork or something."

This is why she needed him sometimes. He had slowly come to the realisation over the years that his mother struggled with some of her Queenly duties. It had never really been a big deal, the King was very unconventional too and anyway Rhaenys was much better at this sort of stuff anyway. This self-doubt would do her no good.

"I'll think it will be fine. You look beautiful. "

"Thankyou darling/"

Lady Falsye knocked and entered. "Can I be of some assistance Your Grace?"

"No, no. Please leave me and my son. And you two, out." she gestured to the Kingsguard. "Oh, I can't stand that woman. I'll need to get rid of her somehow."

"Talk to Rhaenys." Jon suggested and immediately regretted it.

"Like you did about Sam?" The question felt pointed. Jon sighed internally. His mother was wonderful _in her element ._ She could be the most charming person in the room but she couldn't _adapt_ to certain different situations. "Anyway," she continued, "I doubt she'll be civil to me for the next twenty years."

"Probably more likely forty." he answered briskly. They had arrived at the sore spot.

"I didn't know he was going to bring it up last night/"

"You knew. About something so/"

"It's not that simple/"

"Rhaenys has the right/"

"She is past the age for a betrothal and her father has the right to choose/"

"Like yours?" There was an abrupt silence as her cheeks flushed.

Her voice when she spoke again was quiet and stern. "It is not the same and you will not speak of my father." They didn't do this, they didn't argue. This family didn't do this. It was a point of pride for him. Having witnessing familial discord such as one of the Baratheon screaming matches, he had always thought it was sign of their mutual respect. Now an unusual urge to yell at his mother rushed through him but he forced himself to reman calm.

"When were you planning on telling us?"

"Jon, you have to understand it's not a betrothal. I don't understand why he phrased it that way. Ned suggested it. Well Lady Catelyn wanted. . well it would be nice to join the families together. It is all very rudimentary. " She stared at the letters.

"You know it doesn't make any sense mother." Jon told her, unwilling to let her off the hook. He remembered her face yesterday in the flickering candlelight. After he went back to his room and slept he finally began to process everything he had just learnt. The questions were endless but it did not detract from the fundamental problem: It didn't make sense. The king had no love for his mother's family and they were already allied with them through his marriage. Once his mother had been declared a true Queen too, and taken her rightful place by his father's side, no one could claim Lord Stark had been pleased but all talk of Northern rebellion had been quashed. The only way for this to make sense was if he wanted to send her far away, was he worried that she had gained too much power? Had she gone against him in something? He needed his mother to see.

"I know but Robb is not the only one coming." He could hear a little pride in her voice. He racked his brain and then landed on the answer. "Edmure Tully." he finally said. Tully, he remembered had been nice enough, if a little dim from a short visit last year with an ailing father. "Yes," his mother agreed," a fine match. I mean the Riverlands are full of resources and she shall be a lady of a great seat. And it will bring all our families closer. you have no need to look surprised Jon, I am no fool and I'm just as capable as the Queen at making betrothals."

Jon blinked. "Is this about Aunty Elia?"

"What? No!" And don't call her that. We're not going to think about her today." She began to pace, reading on her precious letters. "Not today, why are you ruining it? It's just a suggestion. I won't have it, not today. I, I am the Queen and today my brother is visiting. Look I know I cannot force Rhaenys to do anything and I would never want to. There is no plot against her. Tell me Jon why would I want to send her away?"

_The first lady of the realm._

He felt guilty for even thinking it. He looked at his mother's pleading, earnest eyes and softened. "Why did the King . . ."

"I don't know, Jon but not today okay? Promise me, not today?"

"I promise." An idea was forming in the back of his mind. He was rewarded with her bright, answering smile as she began to collect the letters.

The King appeared at the door like a phantom. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep Jon. Always consider before you promise something. Lyanna you look lovely but don't you think the Donyse dress would be better?" The dress in question was one of his mother's finest with Myrish black lace and slashed scarlet sleeves.

"No, no . . I think this one will be nicer for today. Lighter."

"Well you know best my darling. Jon, Leave us please."

"Yes, your grace."

He left them too it and walked to Rhaenys' chambers. Pushing down the strange urge to visit the portrait, he went into her room where she was discussing something with Varys. When she spotted him she dismissed the grinning spider and beckoned him forward. "Good morrow, are you excited for today?" she greeted him.

"Yes. It's very exciting. I thought perhaps I could escort you?"

"In case I try and make a run for it?" she smiled letting him know it was a jape. "Of course, lets go now, they'll be here soon. How do I look? Will your cousin be impressed?" she laughed a little, twirling around on the spot. She did, Jon noted look very lovely. Her hair was in her usual braid but she wore one of her nicer black and red dresses with several, silvery necklaces that Jon was almost certain belonged to Daenerys. There was something off about her. Jon knew for sure now he needed answers now.

They walked towards the courtyard with Rhaenys' sworn shield and Whent and Blount trailing them.

"Mother says nothing has really been agreed upon Rhaenys. It's just early talks." He winced at his own phrasing, this wasn't some cattle show negotiation. She just smiled back at him. "And well there are lots of other options you know, plenty of eligible men, I mean you are one of the most desirable bride," he was beginning to babble now. "I didn't know you know and mother didn't realise he was going to bring it up and she would never force you into anything. There are just so many options." She was looking at him now, her large, dark eyes penetrating his mind.

"Options, interesting. That aren't Robert Stark? Another Northern boy or lord perhaps?" she studied his face. "No, aah Lady Catelyn has a brother. Wow, she is her father's daughter that one."

Jon didn't know how to reply to that so he cut straight to the point. "Rhaenys about today, I'm worried/"

"Jon." He was surprised, she rarely interrupted. "Don't worry, I'm not going to cause a scene. I understand, your mother wouldn't want anything to spoil her special day. Have you seen Egg?"

"No." he replied. They walked in silence. It was not only Lyanna who had been waiting for this day for a long time, but now that it was here, it felt all wrong like when he cut into a delicious looking, long-awaited, special meal and discovered it had a strange, sour flavour.

"Where was Blount yesterday?" he asked mainly to change the subject.

"In the Street of Silk." Rhaenys answered airily whilst Brienne made a sound of disgust.

"That's terrible." Jon was glad to feel a wave of rage, it was good to fell something as clear cut as anger right now.

"He was doing his duty. How else will the Tyrell's plot his untimely demise?" she asked him sweetly. Jon looked at her dumbly and decided not to ask. he was sick of these little schemes and secret betrothals. He knew she had a plan, here was no chance she was going to play the docile, loving daughter on such a serious matter.

"How is Elaena?" he tried again. Elaena Sands before Tyrion was the only person who family aside could call herself a true friend of the Princess. She had been married (quite suddenly now that he thought about it) a few years ago and didn't often come to court. A sudden thought occurred to him, _is that why she is so against marriage? Has she ever seen a happy one? Her parents ended at a tourney, Elaena's has never been a happy one, her cousins most likely ended in murder if rumours are to be believed. . ._

"She is well." Her voice became vague as if she was drifting away. 

"Do you ever want to get married?"

"Do you?" she shot back.

He faltered. He was the crown prince, even if he wasn't the heir, ladies still sought his favour and he was reminded of what Egg had said only yesterday, _playing the part._ At age fifteen he supposed he really should be thinking about it more.

"Did your mother suggest the Tyrell betrothal, you know before she died?" he said thinking back to his earlier conversation with his mother and also avoiding the question as she did. She looked amused and led him down to the top of the courtyard steps. "Is it even going ahead?"

She took a deep breathe. "Things are a bit precarious at the moment Jon, but I'm going to fix it. I just need you to trust me ok?"

"Of course." he promised without really thinking about it.

"Daenerys is coming back from Summerhall soon." she said, seemingly out of the blue, as the greeting party began to gather around them.

"Oh, that is wonderful." he said carefully. It was good news as he was fond of his aunt but after last night, he knew her returning was not a coincidence but people were nearby. _Now is not the time._

He saw his parents walking towards them, arm in arm with Egg trailing behind them. To his surprise, Egg wore orange and yellow and a strange, distant look that he was more used to seeing on Rhaenys and their father's face. They all stood together in silence like players waiting for the curtain to rise, before they could begin acting.

The Starks arrival was not as momentous as he had always imagined. One minute they weren't there and the next they were. A small part of him had expected them not to turn up like last year. And even though he was a bit embarrassed to admit it to himself, he had expected them all to look more like him. All his life, he had been the _Stark boy, the Stark prince._ Especially to men like Connington. But apart from Lord Stark himself and Arya, they were all very Tully like. He knew each one by their age and yet felt _nothing. I don't know these people. I've just tricked myself into knowing them. I only know the carefully chosen stories of Lady Catelyn and his mother's anecdotes_ he realised with a sinking feeling. As if she had read his mind, Rhaenys squeezed his hand as the King officially welcomed them to the city.

"It has been truly too long," he finished with. He sounded detached, his eyes off in the middle distance. Jon waited, when their father became like this, this is when Egg or Rhaenys would step in but nothing happened. The play faltered. Rhaenys was smiling sweetly, the perfect princess and Egg was almost scowling. Scowling? Egg? The Queen stepped forward.

"Ned." her voice was trembling with emotion.

"Lya." Ned answered. His voice was gruff and a little awkward but he accepted her enthusiastic hug. "It's been a long time."

"Hopefully it will never be this long again." Lyanna said, wiping her face. Ned looked at his son a little uneasily and then at Rhaenys and his face drained, so he seemed even paler.

"Yes, it is so wonderful to have you here. How are you liking the city?" Egg declared. To them he probably seemed like the charming prince, in fact he saw Sansa blush prettily as she stared up at him but he could hear the strain in his brother's voice. It hadn't been there yesterday. Ned snapped his head to look at Egg who went to stand at Jon's side, Jon wondered what they must look like: _the Martell, the Stark and the Targaryen._

"Very much, My Lord." answered Lady Catelyn, a beautiful woman with cool, river blue eyes. "The Queen has told us much of it's charms." Jon doubted that very much.

"Oh Ned, this is Eg- I mean Aegon Targaryen, the Crown Prince, Rhaenys Targaryen, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and my son Prince Jon." Lyanna said, her face still wet. Ned met his eye. He has my eyes, thought Jon, or I have his.

"These are our children, Robb, Sansa, Arya and Bran." Lady Catelyn said, indicating each one. Jon saw her give her son a slight push. "My Lady, my mother has told me of your beauty," he said, bowing.

"Really, how could she when we have never met before?" Rhaenys addressed the Lady, in a puzzled tone. She then smiled at him to show it was a jape. He flushed as red as his hair. He was tall and handsome, Jon observed but he seem so young and out of place even though he was a few moons earlier than himself. _As green as summer grass._

"Well, you probably heard it from your brother, isn't that right Lady Catelyn? Do you remember Rhaenys he wrote that poem for you. You really had an affect on him. " Jon winced at his mother's insinuations and waited nervously for Rhaenys curt answer but she smiled mildly and asked after Lord Tully's whereabouts. Her smile became a little mocking when she was told he was in bed with a poor stomach. "Oh how dreadful. I will send one of our Maester's at once."

Lady Catelyn looked a little embarrassed but the Queen was delighted. "Yes as courteous as she is beautiful, wouldn't you say?", looking around the group for their approval.

"She looks just like her mother." Ned said and then looked promptly surprised at himself for saying it aloud. Lyanna's face froze.

"We hope you will stay long," Egg started, "at least until my nameday at the end of next moon. A big celebration. I will finally come of age." Ned wasn't listening but Lyanna jumped on the chance gratefully.

"Yes, probably even a greater feast than last years. Oh that was such a wonderful night. I mean what is spring compared to a nameday, right?" she said in good humour but Ned's face remained unsmiling.

"Actually, there are reports it may have been a false spring." Rhaenys interjected.

"Rhaenys, you shouldn't listen to court gossip." Lyanna scolded her. She's nervous Jon thought, she would never usually do it publicly.

"I heard it at the last council meeting actually." she said mildly, fingering her necklaces.

"Are those your mothers?" Lady Catelyn asked.

"No, they're my grandmother's." Jon hadn't known that. He felt like he was sort of floating out of his body, like he wasn't really here.

"My mother gave them to Elia as a gesture of acceptance." the King began. Jon hadn't known he'd even been listening. "She had got them from her own mother, who had got them from her husband. A promise gift. A promise he would marry her, despite the world thinking it was wrong. A promise to reintroduce the glory of our Valyrian culture. Elia was like a daughter to my mother, until Daenerys came along of course. She died not soon after. She was in a lot of pain, she was unable to see things clearly."

"She's not wearing them in the portrait is she though? Oh the portrait. You must see it. It was done by the finest artist. It captured her beauty so well. I guess in a way by Grandmother Rhaella giving my mother the necklace, it kind of changed the meaning didn't it?" Egg broke in loudly and a little randomly.

"Egg." warned Rhaenys in a low voice.

"No, that's not true and you know it, deep in your heart you do. It is in your blood and blood cannot lie, like dreams." the King replied, his voice had a mystic tone to it.

"So when was the portrait of Queen Elia completed?" Lady Catelyn asked, a little desperate to move the conversation along.

"After her funeral." Jon spoke for the first time." After we came back from the service of the Great Sept it was revealed." He could still remember it, everyone pale, wet and a clad in black. The King stood in front of everyone and solemnly recited a poem called A song of Ice and Fire that Jon had felt as a child was incredibly boring and confusing. He was also like the other guests very hungry but no one was allowed to eat until they each had come up to admire the portrait. It's frame had glistened with gemstones, Jon remembered suddenly, how could he have forgotten that? Where had the jewels gone? Another question he would add to the list. When he got that certain person alone, that was it. _It was time for some answers._

"This way she is with us always." The King declared staring up at the sky. Jon could see the bitterness in his mother's expression. He could almost here her thoughts, how often she tried to be the perfect Queen and now he wasn't even trying on this special day.

"Well can I ask that we/ . ."

"No." the queen snapped, "Not today. We are not seeing _her_ today. It would ruin . . I had this ride planned. The Kingswood, there's this trail it looks just like the one near Win . . ." she trailed off at everyone's expression.

"Ok, well I suppose another time then. I know my uncles are desperate to see it though. They won't have long to wait though. Isn't it exciting, they've accepted my invitation to come here for my nameday." He looked around, beaming at them all. It was as if Egg was some weird parody of his usual cheerful self. Rhaenys was looking seriously concerned.

"What?" Lyanna looked at him open-mouthed. She turned to the King who just smiled indulgently.

"The more people as witness, the greater it shall be." he intoned.

"Perhaps we should go to the apartments and freshen up?" Lady Catelyn offered.

"Yes, if you would excuse us, we shall be delighted to see you at dinner." Rhaenys' gave them her best smile and grabbed Eggs' arm as they walked off.

"Yes." said the Queen, "Let me show you." She looked at Jon in mute appeal and he felt himself torn in too.

"I'm sorry I too must attend to something. My apologies." He bowed and paced after his siblings, not wanting to see his mother's expression.

he finally caught up with them in Rhaenys bedchamber where she was in mid lecture. Her voice was hushed and she had commanded a singer to loudly sing on her balcony as if to ward off unwanted listeners.

". . .things in motion. You have to trust me to deal with this. It's my fault about Trant. I should have been more careful- Jon what are you doing here? Why aren't you with your family?"

"He is." Egg answered for him. "Come in Jon. Rhaenys has been keeping something from us."

She glared at him. "Daenerys has dragon dreams. It is not a big deal and I knew if _he_ found out he would make it one. It would just make his descent worse." Jon took a few moments to sort through this information and although it was surprising he didn't really see what all the fuss was about. Dragon dreams had been part of Targaryen lineage since always. "What do you mean descent? Are you -" he lowered his voice to barely a whisper" overthrowing him?" Were they talking treason.

"She means madness Jon. His descent into madness." Egg's voice was oddly flat.

"Our father isn't mad." Jon said automatically.

"He - See he is not ready. He has had some short lapses in the past. Times when his melancholy turned into something different. But they have got worse each time. Daenerys' ability could only set it off. When she came to me I told her to keep it a secret and it has succeeded for years but in when she was sent to Summerhall . . . That rat Trant well he will pay for this." Rhaenys straightened herself. "We cannot start a war. There will be no support for that marriage. Same for the Stark one. He was just trying to prove he could punish me, control me/"

"It's not just that. He told me last night" Eggs' expression was haunted.

"Daenerys is not Visenya. It doesn't make sense. I missed the early signs, it's not even logical anymore. The realm will not look at the match between you favourably." Rhaenys was almost talking to herself. So, Jon thought, this is what it fells like to know, to be in the loop.

"You and Aunt Daenerys?" Jon asked.

"Prophecy. Prophecy. Prophecy. Mother warned me, on her deathbed, she did." _I know, thought Jon. I know exactly what she said._ "It'll be worse with news from the North."

"It's worse than that Rhaenys, that's why we need Mother's family. Don't you see, your schemes can't save us? Aegon, he had two wives remember?" Egg's face was scrunched up in disgust. For a few seconds Jon didn't understand the disgust, it was a part of history, their history and it was hundreds of years ago. And then it dawned on him. Aegon. Visenya. Rhaenys. He looked at his sister, her face a picture of horror. It was the second time he'd ever seen her speechless. She pulled at the necklaces until the clasps broke and they fell to the floor. No one moved.

"Are you prepared to be the Dragon's bride?" Egg said his face set and angry.


	5. The Crown Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets a few answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings apply. I own nothing. Again this chapter isn't great, next one will be a bit weak too but then I'm thinking one or two after that to finish this story off. I'm still deciding between happier or darker ending.

Rhaenys seemed to freeze, as if time had stopped. But time hadn't, the world Jon was surprised to see kept turning as the singers launched into a new verse. "What? I'm confused. . . Father would never/" Jon began.

"Father would." Egg corrected. "He thinks Daenerys' dragon dreams are a sign and well he kept going on about stars and a certain dream she had had. I don't know what Trant has told him but well they're coming and you heard him before about reintroducing the glory of Valyria. He thinks she's Visenya. That his mother gave her the wrong name."

"But Visenya was older." Jon said, feeling stupid. They both looked at him as if he was.

"Didn't stop him starting a war did it?" Rhaenys voice was sharp. "How can he do this, I've worked so hard. Soon you will be a majority and we don't need him. And the Tyrell's, I mean the valuable alliance. Dany too, men fall over themselves in hopes of gaining her favour. But don't worry I've taken action in that regard."

"Rhae. Did you not hear me, he wants US to marry. Aunty Dany too. This is insane." Egg was staring at her pleadingly

"What did he say exactly?" Rhaenys was in business mode, pacing gracefully up and down.

"Well I followed him to his study and he was looking at the sky. I don't even know if he knew I was there at first. Muttering the usual three heads and stuff. And the whole dragon dream about sacrifice and rebirth. Something about a pyre. Then he turned round and saw me and started telling me about duty and our place in this world." Egg continued, " We need allies, Uncle Doran will help and I can't see honourable Ned Stark approving of this, I mean he wants you to marry Robb."

"Oh no he doesn't! I remind him of mother." Rhaenys began to laugh. " No, it's his wife and Lyanna's got it into her head I would make a great Lady of Riverrun." There was a touch of scorn in her voice in that statement and Jon felt his protective instincts flare up. Edmure Tully wasn't that bad, Riverrun closer to the North . . . his mother was only trying her best. Jon couldn't believe that last night the news that his sister might wed Robb Stark was the craziest thing he'd heard. The prince had been taught history, knew of the customs of the Dragonlords but the dragons were dead and the incestuous unions had only bought misery. His grandfather's marriage had been unhappy he knew, surely his father wouldn't want to force his own children into that same unhappiness. Their love for each other had never and would never he knew with certainty be romantic. Also, a small selfish voice in the back of his head said, where did that leave him? He had always known his birth had been a disappointment but if he had been born a girl is this what his own father would have wanted? There was no other word for it, this was madness.

"Fine, it's not like we can uninvite them but I would have hoped to do this with more discretion. Yes, yes Egg, they'll side with us, they despise father ever since well. Just a few moons more and everything would have been perfect." Rhaenys complained.

"He is guarded constantly and Connington/"

"Wait are we talking about what I think we are?" Jon's head was spinning. A few months? Had they been planning to kill the king once Aegon had reached the right age? He was still there father, and he was still the King. Kinslaying was a sin, a crime, their father needed help, reassurance, support, right?

They both looked at him, their faces careful masks. " Jon, father has really lost it this time, it cannot go ahead you know this, I know this. We all know this. Times are going to get a bit . . difficult but it's for the good of the realm." Egg took his hand. "We need you on our side." Prince Jon looked at them and found himself nodding. 

A few hours later, sat in his chair in his chambers he still couldn't quite get over the successive shocks. He needed answers. "Arthur, please come in." His knight walked in from his post, shutting the door behind him. Sometimes they would discuss swordplay together, today would not be one of those times. He waited for Arthur to sit down and studied him. He was a living legend, powerful and handsome. A true knight like his father was a true king, Jon supposed.

"You betrayed me and my sister's confidence." He enjoyed Arthur's startled look.

"I.. I serve the king."

"But not his children? You spy on them. Tell me, do you tell my parents that I go visit the portrait?" Arthur blinked.

"No."

"You hate . . no that's the wrong word. You always seem to have some sort of tortured expression when we go. The again you did abandon her, for my mother." Arthur face became very still, Jon had learned this was a sign of distress. He pressed his advantage. "Yes, you were in your homeland weren't you? Tell me is that why Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn despise you?" Jon had no idea whether the did or not, he had a brief image of an olive skinned man arm in arm with a woman that looked like Arianne, both dressed in black turning away from the portrait. That was all he could remember of Aunty Elia's brothers, they had specifically been uninvited to the capital since her funeral and the King regarded them with suspicion which hadn't stopped Rhaenys lengthy correspondence with them both but he knew his arrow struck true. There was pain in his expression. Jon was surprised at himself to find that he was sort of enjoying this feeling of being in control for once.

"That portrait, there were gemstones in its frame do you remember? Why aren't they there anymore?" The question had caught him off guard.

"The . . well Ashara said it was tasteless, it wasn't what she would have wanted. While people starved. . . there was an argument before she was sent from court."

"Really just for that? Tell me did my parents poison Lady Elia?" It was a gamble, Jon knew, an old, hushed story. The truth was that his mother had never won the common people's love and many felt sympathy for the scorned queen. It was nonsense he thought but it had the desired affect, he had never seen Arthur look so flustered.

"A stupid lie for drunkards in tarverns, Elia was always so delicate/"

"Oh, it's Elia now." he let his voice drip with insinuation. Knights and ladies were such a favourite topic of songs. He wondered why? What is so romantic about tragedy?

"I meant Lady, no Queen, the Queen/"

"Oh THE Queen?" he emphasised. There had always been this strange vibe between his mother and Arthur as if they were never really comfortable with each other. He doesn't like her Jon realised. Arthur was looking at him in a confused sort of way. Jon knew this was out of character for him and that Arthur may never treat him the same but he needed answers and who better than the white cloaked shadow?

" I meant Queen Elia." he said through gritted teeth.

"Do you miss your sister? She was a great friend of the Queen's right? Like Rhaenys and Elaena?"

"Yes." the short answer spoke volumes.

"She was sent from court. Why?"

"The portrait/"

"No, Elaena was kept here, like a hostage. You let that happen. It wasn't just some frame dispute. Why?"

"She implied . . . well that the Queen's death had been unnatural."

"Well was it unnatural?" For some reason Jon felt himself holding his breath.

"No. No never. Ashara she meant, not poison, she felt that the Queen could have been saved if the King had acted differently." That made no sense to Jon.

"Differently, what if he hadn't crowned my mother?" Jon was getting angry now, it was like trying to get blood out of a stone. A grim, mournful stone.

"No. The Queen, I'm not sure exactly but a few moons before her death she asked the king for permission to . . to go back home. She wished, she said to see Dorne and her brothers before her death."

"Wait, her illness was sudden, unexpected." Jon countered.

"Not exactly, the master told her she was ill and she asked the King and Queen but they refused, they didn't want her leaving. Ashara got it into her head that going home, the sun , her family may have revived her spirit." Jon's head span. His mother wouldn't do that. She would never deny someone else's right to see their siblings as she herself had been denied.

"I don't think this is a very appropriate conve/"

"No. You will tell me what I wish unless you want Father to know the gossip you've just shared. Do Rhaenys and Egg know?" Arthur shrugged unhappily. Rhaenys knew, Jon thought, as he recalled last nights conversation. He gestured to him to continue.

"Well the portrait's stones were removed and donated to charitable causes and the Queen asked it to be moved from the great hall to the chamber. Ashara's . . outburst was attributed to grief and Prince Doran was able to take her home to recover. Elaena, she was to be the Princess' most honoured guest" Jon knew what that was code for but in a way it had worked out, Elaena had been Rhaenys closest companion until her sudden marriage two years ago. He could picture their dark heads bent together over some book or splashing in one of the garden pools. _A little of the light Rhaenys had was lost the day of the wedding._

Arthur's train of thought was clearly on the same tracks as he smiled, " yes they were great friends, closer than her and Balerion even." he chuckled to himself. Jon thought back to his mother and her words, the cat. Why hadn't he ever wondered what had happened to that bad -tempered cat? He had hugged his big sister when it had died and then had watched uneasily as she had received a new one. "A little black one." The King had smiled down at her, "just like the old one." There had been something in that expression when she had looked at her father that day. Jon could remember it vividly.

"My grandparents, their marriage it was unhappy? My father told me about how he kept a mistress. The importance of fidelity." he prompted.

Arthur almost seemed relieved at the change of subject. "It was not very happy." he agreed.

"They didn't want to marry. " he said almost to himself, lost in another memory. In the gardens, Aunty Dany crouched on the ground as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible whilst Uncle Viserys snarled above her. "This is what happens to girls that don't do what they are told. You've woken the dragon."

"Was he violent towards her?" he asked Arthur and had his fears confirmed by his expression. Jon felt a big emptiness inside of him. The more he learned, the less he wanted to know but he must carry on, this is what a becoming a man is, he thought, learning the hard truths.

"The King has he displayed his father' madness?"

"No, not at all." Arthur replied.

"But. . " Jon prompted. Arthur remained silent.

"He's going to marry Rhaenys off, to the frozen North! What would the Lady Elia think, shall we go and ask the portrait? I mean that's all we really have left of her right?" Arthur flinched.

"A marriage far away might be good for her." he said stubbornly. There was something in a tone that Jon didn't like.

"What does that mean?" he commanded only to receive silence.

"Fine, but you will answer my earlier question, has the King displayed signs of madness." Arthur's helpless look met the prince's pitiless expression.

"He is not mad. A dreamer perhaps. He has had instances where his melancholia has been more severe. Your mother has always been a great support to him. He used to call her his dawn of his darkness. He as you know has been disappointed by certain aspects of the prophecy." Jon waited. Arthur sighed. "The Queen's death was hard on him, the other Queen lost her last child a moon later. There was a period of . . . instability he couldn't or didn't understand certain things. Grief, it is a terrible thing, Prince Jon. No-one was more upset about the Queen's death and that talk of poison it was very distasteful. That's why he had the portrait commissioned so her memory would never die. He watched it for hours on end. . . "

"There was nothing else. What about last year, the spring feast, he was acting strangely?" Now Arthur really did seem uncomfortable, he stared at the table as if it were a god that could somehow save him. Maybe it was as just then a page knocked on the door and entered. "My Lord, your presence is requested for the banquet at midday. The King, his grace, The Queen, the crown prince and the crown princess all await your presence."


	6. The King's Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings apply. I own nothing. Sooo I have decided to do my original thing but I'm also going to do another fic where their is a happy ever after for these characters that we would never get in canon. I wrote this chapter but then I accidentally deleted it, because I'm an idiot. Feedback welcome.

Jon scowled to himself as he made his way to the chamber he had eaten in last night. Arthur had practically leaped at the chance to get away, like a fish diving from a hook back into the river. He hadn't told him everything, Jon knew that but he also knew now Arthur would avoid him like the plague now. Clearly it was still a sore spot. _The waiting game._ That's what Egg had called it.

"We must wait. Our allies will come. We have the Lannisters, the Martell's once they arrive and if we can convince the Starks, Tully will follow suit. And afterwards when I . . marry Margaery we will bind the Tyrell's and all their power to us."

"Yes and there are other ways too, if necessary."Rhaenys had added, her voice cold and determined. Jon tried to ignore the ominous drop in his stomach. He tried not to think of poor, old Lord Arryn, dead on the marble slab. It's not as if he knew anything for sure, he had only caught her rifling through his desk. The plan they hadn't explained in great detail but Jon knew they wished to call a great council like past Kings had done in matters of succession. Apparently there was a clause in Viserys II legislature concerning with possible mental incompetence. Jon was glad, he didn't wasn't sure he wanted to know, it all felt too real, too extreme.

Dinner was quite pleasant. The room was much fuller than usual, making it nice and warm and the table rang with laughter and chatter.

"Did you send the Maester, Rhaenys?" asked the Queen.

"Yes your Grace, we couldn't let Lord Tully worsen." the princess replied obediently, her face placid but her eyes gleamed. She had told Jon the true reason he was indisposed with a wicked smile ( he had been in a drunken brawl over a whore or wench and ended up passed out in a water trough) making Egg guffaw and Jon sigh in disappointment. Still, he thought, that wasn't so bad, it meant he was stupid enough to control surely?

"Well, he is usually of very good health isn't he?" enquired the Queen pleased by the response.

"Yes, your Grace. He has always been strong and vigorous." Lady Catelyn

"Excellent, I'm sure he will make some lady very lucky one day." The Queen said.

"Yes, a potential spouse health is always of paramount importance. Too have a sickly, frail spouse, what a burden. "Rhaenys declared, her voice sugar sweet. The Queen smiled but Lady Catelyn narrowed her eyes as if their was some hidden insult there. The King who was behaving to Jon's surprise very regally, fiddling with his cuffs smiled at his daughter, his eyes shining.

The feast that night again went on as normal and Jon felt the knot of worry in his stomach loosen a little. It was a fabulous night with silver platters of delicious foods and endless goblets of wine and Northern ales. Watching Egg and Margaery whirl around the Great Hall like colourful moths, drawing the eye of all the courtiers Jon felt he saw he the future. _The King and Queen to be._ He looked to the King who watched his laughing son with a face of sorrow and to Jon regret. It made his heart leap hopefully, perhaps the King saw what he saw too. He danced with one of the Tyrell cousins, his cousin Sansa who giggled prettily and then his sister. They twirled slowly to Jenny's song and Jon was pleased to see his parents closely swaying together, smiling.

"I don't like this song." he said to her quietly.

"Why?" she whispered back.

"It's so sad. It makes her out as such a lonely figure but she was so loved. I mean Great great uncle Duncan chose her over the Iron Throne, the greatest seat of power."

"Yes, their love is everlasting." There was something in her tone that caught Jon's attention.

"What do you mean? Like for the smallfolk?"

"Well all three of Aegon's sons defied him for love yet only one is deemed the great romance. I guess people have forgotten about the bloody rebellion that was the Stormlands wedding gift. Jaehaerys loved his sister, undid his father's wishes for her and Daeron. . well he and Jeremy died side by side, isn't there anything more romantic?"

"That's just a rumour though." Jon pointed out, annoyed with where this conversation was going. He didn't want to think about the reintroduction of the old customs of Valyria. He noticed the necklaces were no longer around her neck. She looked at him with a strange expression then smiled, "Yes, just a rumour. How are you liking the visit so far? The Starks have been very pleasant company."

"Yes they have." He didn't actually know really. This whole thing had been a bit of a disappointment. He was sure when his mother had time to reflect after this tumult of the day she would ask him to make more of an effort. He looked at her now, her proud smile, the thing she'd longed for finally come to pass, a great feast her success.

"It would be good to befriend Robert Stark," she began, her voice gentle.

"Are you trying to get rid of me like Connington?" he smiled at her.

She laughed. "Oh we shouldn't. I underestimated him. A life of unrequited love has left him without anything else. I suppose he thought he was being clever, a great gamble and he would be rid of us, the reminders. But one day Robert will rule the North and we need that trust."

"The reminders. ." Jon mumbled to himself. He looked for once past his parents, to Jon Connington, sat in a place of high honour. Lord Jon, a man that commanded respect, had a great title, the King's ear, who never seemed happy. . . who was watching them sway blankly. He turned back to his sister, who he thought would wear a teasing expression on her face, like how could he not have realised yet? She stiffened in his arms slightly and he followed her eyeline. Lord Alekyne Florent and his wife Lady Elaena arrived and were welcomed. She was visibly pregnant with her first child but she still turned heads, an member of court that still caused speculation due to her bastard origins. She had been legitimised by the King shortly after he had ascended the throne but her father had remained nameless, though most whispered of lovely Ashara Dayne seduced by the Wild Wolf Brandon Stark though when they would have met before Harrenhall, Jon had no idea. She has a long face, Jon had considered over the years but apart from that there were no other hints with her silky, fine dark hair and violet eyes. He had never really thought of her as one of the Starks, as his cousin. The Starks were of Winterfell, existing only in his mother's frosty, fun-filled stories and Lady Catelyn's eagerly awaited letters whilst she seemed a part of _this_ life, as part of the Red Keep as the bricks and towers. She was Rhaenys' playmate, Rhaenys' companion, Rhaenys' friend. He was surprised to see her, and felt guilty at the stab of displeasure he felt as she had done nothing to offend him but he couldn't stand her husband. Lord Florent was handsome, well-spoken and the heir to a good seat but he had the intolerable habit of steering the conversation towards his own achievements. Jon supposed the match was a good one as Elaena was a bastard after all and he wasn't cruel or ninety years old, yet on the wedding day he felt like he was watching a mummer's show rather than a wedding ceremony. They looked right and they said the right words but it was an empty, hollow affair. He had suspected at the time there had might have been some truth in the rumours that she was with child as that would account for the haste and large dowry but no child appeared and Jon had concluded his parents were just being generous.

"Where's Tyrion?" he asked her, realising he hadn't seen him all night. Rhaenys had been looking at her father who stared back at her, smiling. She blinked a him. " The imp?" he asked as the song wound down to its last mournful notes.

"Oh, I thought it best if he leave the capital. He has been here a while. Let him travel and terrorise others." she smiled at him and they walked back to the dais.

The night went on its glory. He caught his brother's eye as he tried to disentangle himself from Florent. "Yes the King affixed his personal seal to the invite, what an honour and a surprise, it reminds me of when I . . . " Egg grinned at him knowingly and everything felt so normal again that Jon found himself smiling and smiling.

Of course it couldn't last. The Stark's had been here a week when his mother's cracks finally split open again.

She had been so happy, a ball of vitality and energy but as the days passed she had slowly become more and more upset. No-one's behaviour could be faulted. The King behaved like a perfect gentleman, although in some moments his face would crease with sorrow. He had also developed some mild symptoms of summer fever, a terrible cough and some sweating but the maester's assured them he would recover. Egg and Rhaenys played their parts, Jon too. He knew his mother wanted him to be more enthusiastic but he had trouble summoning the energy she seemed to require. Sam had decided, he wanted books and he had left the other day full of nervous excitement. Something inside him was crushed, he now felt much more empathy with Rhaenys who had said goodbye to Elaena. The Starks too were full of courtesy but it wasn't _enough._ She wanted he realised to somehow bridge the this gap between herself and her brother but didn't know how. She had told him his uncle was quiet but Jon wondered if perhaps Brandon, Benjen and their father had helped fill the gaps, balance the dynamic. Or perhaps the ghosts of their father and brother bridged an even greater distance than the leagues between Winterfell and the Red Keep. Every attempt at reminiscing was met with awkward agreement, every question answered politely and shortly and the small talk was as empty as the silence between the sentences spoken. So it was at dinner, she finally began to drank as their father stared into the middle distance, scratching his arm.

"Do you remember that trail we used to go to, the one that led to that pool with all the wildflowers?" she asked him joyfully, swirling her wine.

"Yes, it was beautiful."

"How was the hunting season? Did you catch a lot of game?"

"A little less than last year but we planted more fields."

"I wish you had bought Old Nan, I miss her so. Her stories, nothing can match them."

"The journey is too long, her health wouldn't permit it."

"Oh, I forgot to ask about the Glasshouse. Did you bring me some cuttings? How is it? Ned? The Glasshouse, the wildflowers? Look at me." The last bit he knew was a plea but it came out like a command.

"Yes, it is in good shape. The winter roses bloom each year, Your Grace." The title address finally killed her tirade and her mood continued to blacken as the King kept coughing.

"Elia, pass me that hankerchief please?" the King asked Rhaenys so normally that Jon didn't pick up on it until Arya piped up:

"Why did you call her that?" There was an uncomfortable silence. Egg and Rhaenys both began to fill it , expertly distracting the guests apart from his uncle, Jon noticed. He had not warmed to the King at all and Jon suspected that his siblings attempts to sway him on side would soon be successful.

He accompanied his mother back to her chambers as she was staggering a little. She went through the shared ones, to his father's private one.

"Mother/"

"Where is it . . . aah there it is." She had rummaged through a locked draw and bought out an elegantly carved glass bottle filled with amber liquid. She sprayed it on herself and in the air. Jon recognised it almost immediately.

"That's Aunty Elia's scent." he said as they sat down on the bed.

"Yes, lovely isn't it? You know your father, he said that was one of the things he loved about me on the way to Dorne. My smell. I laughed at him then but he took my hand, he was always so serious. He said I smelled like a real woman with just a hint of flowers yet now . . you know he's even started wearing it sometimes. I smell it when I kiss him. The true Queen's scent." She sprayed more and scratched her arm absently. 

"Why didn't you let her go home?"

"What?"

"Aunty Elia, why didn't you let her go home?" There, the words were out there.

"Who told you that? Was it Lady Falyse, that dreadful gossip? Oh Jon. You don't understand, I.. we never thought she would die. Rhaegar said she would recover and we got the finest maesters, the finest treatments. She was on bed rest and she seemed . .a little better but then she sickened s suddenly again and it was all too late, her brother's couldn't get here on time. She has asked me you see, beforehand to speak on her behalf, to support her. She had been so nice to me, so attentive I had thought that perhaps she ha finally, truly accepted me like he promised but of course she wanted something. My only friend and she wanted something. I mean to leave, and to take the children too. She said that she wanted to show them her homeland but . . the Dornish Jon, you don't know they're are so angry. You know her brother, that half mad sellsword? He tore down mine and your father's tower, brick by brick. And she wanted to take you to meet him, you would be . . murdered by scorpions or . . .she was always delicate, it was the stress, she needed rest not travel. So . . I didn't speak against her." her babbling trailed off.

"But you didn't speak for her either."

"I did nothing. . . I said nothing. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway." Her voice was unsure and full of shame.

"She never forgave me. Not even on her deathbed. She had those huge dark eyes, as her face got thinner, they got more condemning. Oh she was always polite but you should have seen the way her face lit up when the Kingslayer arrived. He went rushing to her bed side, as if he had been invited and she commanded us all out. I was trying to help . . to nurse her. She asked him to find her a little girl a true protector and he swore on al the gods. I think that was a dig at Arthur you know, things were always strange between them. Her little girl, with the same eyes. That cat. But I have tried Jon, over and over with her and the smallfolk and the court but especially with her. I even kept her secret, though I bet she thinks I betrayed her. No-one ever gives me a chance. " she began to weep. Jon too felt his eyes sting. Aunty Elia had deserved better, he sent a prayer silently to her, wishing her peace but he couldn't let his mother sit and weep. She looked like a lost child. She was flesh and blood, Elia was oil and canvas. He hugged her and they breathed in Elia's scent. Jon felt his throat tickle.

"I smell this when I see the portrait." he commented, once his mother calmed down, she lay back, her hair fanned out. Jon scratched his bare flesh.

"Aaah that horrible thing, it doesn't capture her, not all of her. She was wearing that jewelled thing when I met her for the first time, in the throne room. Her and Lannister and you three children. Some reunion. The King's blood was still on the floor." her voice quavered. " I had no idea he was so . . but the Kingslayer" she coughed, "he grinned at us. Arrogant toerag. Rhaegar wanted to execute him but of course Elia refused. They negotiated all night. She didn't look at me once. I was completely in awe. About the small council seat, Elaena, the taxes and you'll never guess she wanted him to publicly announce Egg as heir. I tried to tell her, I never wanted to steal her sons birthright but she ignored me. And it's only when it was all finally agreed, her council seat, Lannister's pardon and so on that she turned to me and welcomed me to the city with a warm smile. Her scent was everywhere then too. She always kept rooms too hot, it was stifling." Jon was feeling rather like that now, he too began to cough.

Lyanna sat up. "This is wrong, it's making me itch . . . is it making you, yes it is and cough too. . . Rhaegar's symptoms. Fetch the King." she yelled the order at the guard waiting outside.

"Mother?" his head felt groggy. The sweet spices filled his mind.

"Yes Piper, come here, the bottle it came from Rhaenys? Yes, you may go and close the door." She began to pace. "It all makes sense . . I KNEW IT! I told Rhaegar that we needed to be careful with this whole betrothal matter, she's obsessed with power. . . I mean she would sleep in that stupid council chamber if we let her. And Robb, of course my nephew wouldn't be any good. And Tully, she was being so civil yet I could feel it. . . feel something wrong. She's poisoning him." Lyanna was breathing heavily, staring at the amber liquid left in the bottle, scratching her arm. "Itching is not a symptom of Summer Fever, I should have known. He has a rash. By the old gods. For the power. Who knows how long this has be going on. It explains so much"

For a moment of madness he could see it. She liked power, liked control and with her own beloved mother's perfume. . . then the image fractured. "No." he blurted out, his head spinning with desperation, "they're doing it legit-" he clamped his hand over his mouth.

"What, they're doing what legitimately?" her eyes that had lost the drunken haze (though her face was still tear streaked) widened as she figured it out. "They. . is Egg? No, she talked him into it . . and you. How could you listen to her? What was the plan? Wait is that why Egg invited the Dornish for the. . wait legitimately, what are you going to have some big meeting?" Jon flinched. He felt a heavy numbness draw over him.

"The wedding . . " he said weakly.

"Oh. Look Daenerys and Aegon, they . . well it's their . . .no . . our . . the way. This is absurd. " The King entered. His wife turned to look at him. "the perfume, there's something in it. Look we are all itchy and coughing. It's poisoned." The King stared at the amber spray. His face was one of disappointment. "You know who it is my love, Rhaenys she has gone too far this time, she's trying to overthrow you, no wonder she has been paying s much attention to the Stark's and Tully's, she's gaining allies, they are to have some meeting or council . . " his mother went on until the King held up his hand.

"Give it to me. Oh Little Sun I would hope she would understand. She must feel it, her blood, calling to her. You do, don't you? Destiny." Jon didn't reply.

"My love, the perfume it's making-/"

"Do not worry my son, it is the star, it misled me too but finally an answer to years of torment. The dreams, the dreams . . the great rebirth awaits. Go and find the crown prince and princess and put them in custody." he ordered the guards. "Yes, I was a fool, my mother too. It was the pain of the birth, she couldn't see. What is a Daenerys compared to a Visenya? Don't worry, you will understand soon. Very soon. The eggs are almost here and the times are almost right. I have to act quickly . . I must. Double the guard." Lyanna had shrank back a little. "My love, please-"

He spoke over her, " I had hoped she would see, you would see. It seems the ceremony will have to convince you. With great sacrifice comes great reward." he muttered something unintelligible. "Take him and put him in a cell." Jon barely registered the steel grip, his mother's screams. At that moment his mind was full of only perfume and his father's hopeful expression, as if he expected great things from him.

Jon let the numbness take over. He was dragged like a sack of goods. He had betrayed them. He had. . he . .He heard his sister's voice and caught a glimpse of her before he was hauled around a corner. The image of her tear stained face, saying "I am the King's daughter," in a blood soaked dress haunted him as he begun his descent into the darkness of the cells.


	7. The Heir's Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reflects and some other stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments, questions and kudos. Warnings apply, mentions of violence, death, incest, childhood trauma Feedback welcome. Next chapter will be the big one, with a lot of Rhaenys. The final confrontation if you like then an epilogue

Time was no longer a real concept to Jon anymore.

His cell, the rational part of his brain acknowledged was actually very nice. It had a small hard bed, a desk with some papers and ink and a small window that filtered in some light in the top left hand corner. It could be, he knew much worse. Good quality food was delivered to him twice a day and his chamber pot was taken away to be emptied.

He felt so numb.

He had received only one message from the outside world and that was from the King. "Reflect," an unsure guardsmen had told the royal prince as he sat on rags. "His Grace wishes you to be stripped from distraction. He wants you to . . see what is really there. To," he took a deep breath, " truly understand yourself, your place in this world and the great destiny that awaits the Targaryen dynasty."

Jon had stared back at him blankly. "Where is my mother? My brother? My sister?" He received no reply. He spent at least a few days thinking about what had happened. How had it escalated so quickly? Or maybe it didn't, maybe I have missed signs that were there all along? he thought. There was anger, shame , guilt, rage. Better to be numb he thought. So he sat there and barely touched his food. He didn't write letters. He just sat there.

It was a few days later when he received his next message. "His Grace commands you to eat. Then he will allow visitors." That made Jon's head snap up. He began to eat all his meals ravenously even though he had no real appetite. He also drank lots of wine, something he was rather unaccustomed too. The strange sour flavour made his head spin. This was no arbour gold he thought to himself and then began to giggle to himself hysterically. He was in a cell but complaining about the quality of the wine. Everything was beginning to feel a bit surreal. He wondered who he should ask for? It felt like a test. Who did he love the most? His head span with their faces. His mother riding in the Kingswood, her brown hair flying behind her with a joyful smile. His brother sat on back on his chair laughing, the sunlight glinting off his hair. His sister spinning around with him on the ballroom floor. Then the sugar. Why was there sugar everywhere? He could taste it even. Had there been sugar in his food? He stumbled, a sheaf of papers grasped in his hands until he felt something more solid behind him and slid down until he felt level ground. His throat felt dry and his head pounded. And the taste of sugar.

It was that day all over again. The windy day slashed with rain. Jon could feel it against his cheek. Aunty Elia spread out on her cloak of black and red on the white marble slab. A spectacle for the black clad mourners. _And sugar mixed with salt. The taste of tears._ His eyelids fluttered. He could see them all, blank faces, all in black. Aunty Elia, dressed in black and red too. She had never usually wore those colours but that was how most people would remember her now. The same mourners had sat there in clumps listening to the King's harp and his reading of A Song Of Ice And Fire. And there it was the portrait, its frame glistening with precious stones. They disappeared though as Jon got closer. He was walking closer and closer to it. He searched in vain for his family but his parents and siblings were nowhere to be seen. Her dark, painted eyes held him in some sort of trance and then she moved . . . She smiled at him, her hair rustling in the wind and beckoned him through. She was walking backwards, becoming smaller and smaller.

"Aunty Elia?"

"Come, come quickly." He clambered in after, his movements feeling sluggish and uncouth compared to quick, sure-footed steps. It seemed the landscape was colouring itself in as they walked. Bright oranges, reds and yellows. Beautiful flowers blooming all around them. She was wearing those colours too with scarlet suns embroidered on her sleeves. He could still taste the sugar. She smiled at him. "Where are we Jon?"

"Dorne." The answer came to him. It felt hot and all around there was red, orange and yellow. It must be Dorne he thought. It must be. "Do you like it?" He remembered at one of the teas they all had together on her balcony with the lemon cakes and sugar rolls. He could taste them now. Where were they? Where was Egg and Rhaenys? They should be here too he thought absently. She had told them of the Water Gardens, it had sounded like a flowery paradise with its pale, pink marble pools and groves of blood orange trees. Yes, he thought, the blood orange trees. They slowly sprang up around them, casting long, cool, pleasant shade over them both.

"I love Dorne, it is my homeland." she replied lifting her arms towards the sun. "What is it, why are you so sad?"

The despair seem to flood back, cutting through some of the haze." I'm . . .everything is falling apart. I . . you. . you can help me." The idea jumped out at him like a bolting horse. It was so obvious, so clear, so evident and loud. For some reason the idea was very loud. Aunty Elia had done this before, reached rapprochement. After the war, well hadn't his mother said she had spent all her time in the council, asked for her seat in exchange for blessing the marriage. She always had an air of competence, he could remember running to her. She'll fix it. "Father he has become . . fixated on the prophecy." Was it his imagination or did her face darken? "He thinks Daenerys, well her dreams they are a sign. He has become convinced that she is Visenya and that she should marry Egg and Rhaenys." Elia turned her head so he couldn't see her face in the shadows. "I need them , well a negotiation. They were right, he is too unwell to rule but . . .surely. . . " he trailed off as she looked at him smiling. Why wasn't she talking? Why wasn't she telling him what to do? This close he could smell her perfume. . the perfume he had not allowed himself to think about. If Rhaenys had given it to him, that meant, well he knew what that meant. "He's got me in a cell . . he put me in one." He sounded like a petulant child, he thought to himself angrily. He should be devising some sort of scheme to escape or at least prepare what to do when he got out. Or if he got out. Halting that dangerous spiral of thoughts was the hand that rested on his shoulder. He blinked up at Aunty Elia. "I'm sorry."

"For crying? That's a silly thing to be sorry for. Everyone does it from time to time." She smiled down at him. Was she always this tall he thought abstractedly? Was this the right height? He was crying he realised.

"No, that you didn't get to go home. I'm so sorry. They thought you would get better." he said weakly.

"But I didn't. I died." That statement coming from someone who looked and felt so real should have been more jarring but for some reason it didn't.

"What should I do? I can't believe the King has done this . .I hate him." he assured her.

She tilted her head and studied him. "I don't think that's completely true."

"No, I do, I do but I miss him too. When did everything get so confusing? Why do I always feel like . . like I have to choose. I hate it." He felt shame and anger brew inside him like some toxic stew. The blood oranges began to swell, drop and they burst upon impact, smattering the floor with a tangy, rotten, unpleasant smell. Several things were nagging at Jon, crying out for his attention, for the spotlight of his train of thought. 

To his horror Winter Roses began to bloom in their place. "No, no stop, stop it." Their huge, delicate petals scent began to mask everything else. It was a world of dizzying, icy blue. Elia hugged him close but her perfume was fading as was her clothes colours.

"Ssshh, it's ok. Things are only as powerful as the meanings and power you give them. " It sounded like something Sam had told him once. Sam. If only Sam was here. Where was Sam? Where was here? Everything was spinning. "Sssshh, it's ok." she was stroking his hair, " It's ok." The world began to slow and the roses stopped blooming so quickly. _They were beautiful he thought_. He reached out and plucked one, his fingers tracing the soft petals. He gave one to her. She took it, twirling it between her fingertips. The yellows and orange on her had disappeared and the soft red darkened into angry scarlet and jet black. The colour had faded from her cheeks too, she was fading, he realised. "My children, my brothers . ." her voice was becoming quieter too, replaced by her husbands harp music. It was haunting and melodic. He hadn't heard it for so long. His father had given it up. "My little girl, Little Sun, please help her, help them both. . ."

"No wait, please." But she was gone, all that was left was the single blue rose.

He wandered through his own dreams, half conscious. Sometimes he thought he felt the rags he sat on and the papers in his hands. Was he having some kind of dragon dream? There were dragons, dragons of all colours and sizes. He felt their heat burning his skin. There were eggs too. Who had spoken about eggs? His father. His father was there too with his harp, strumming the poignant opening notes to Jenny's song. Jon tried to cover his ears but they still rang throughout his mind wherever he went. "Elia?" he called as he meandered through emerging and dissolving memories. He needed her guidance but she was as insubstantial as all the others. He wandered through his childhood memories. Learning with his father, riding with his father, talking with him. Running through the Red Keep, riding with his mother, learning to read with Egg, the letters of Winterfell, playing with cats with Rhaenys. No, that ones wrong thought Jon, there were many cats in the Red Keep but only one had been the apple of his sister's eye.

 _Balerion._ He had been a skinny, tough thing with a large cut on his ear. He hadn't really liked Jon or Egg no matter how much the latter had tried to bribe him. He had been a very bad-tempered cat and Jon had never really understood his sister's extreme attachment to him. His mother had always loved dogs and he had spent days riding with and walking them. They were friendly and gave their love easily and completely. He could see it purring on her lap, the memory was a common one as she scratched under his neck as she read a book. Balerion had liked Elaena though. She was there too, also reading a book, her usually solemn face content. But then the image faded and the Baratheon's visit loomed in his mind. It had been the first big event after Aunty's Elia's death, an awkward event for obvious reasons. Aunty Elia and Lord Arryn had been convinced it was necessary to make sure the smallfolk knew that all was good and peaceful between the two families. That had included their evil, golden haired offspring Joffery. Jon didn't know exactly what had happened but he had been there as Cersei had dramatically told of her son's "attack" and she had insisted in front of the court that the dreadful creature be put down. The King and Queen had apologised afterwards, they hadn't realised it was Balerion they had said. The order had been given and the cat was dead. The next day they had somehow tracked down another pure black cat, a kitten. _See a black one, just like the old one my darling._ Jon and Egg had been their to see her receive the new gift and her expression had stuck with him.

He didn't want to think about that. The cat. _I did nothing._ "Elia? Aunty Elia?" he called out again into nothingness. And there she was but it wasn't like before. She was stroking Balerion and reading to her children and to Jon. She couldn't see or hear him, no matter how much he screamed or shouted. The memory dissolved and he tasted sugar in his mouth, his very dry mouth. Everything darkened and he felt very hot. Aunty Elia's chambers came into focus.

_He remembered that night. Egg and Rhaenys had insisted staying by their mother's side and Jon had wanted to do the same. he'd refused to go with his mother and finally she had snapped and left him there. He had began to regret it as Aunty Elia kept her room even in the height of sickness hot. It was also disturbing to see her in this state. She had been happier yesterday, sitting up to greet some man they called Kingslayer then bidding him goodbye but today she had sunk further back into pain. He had been dozing in the cot nearby, Egg sprawled on the one next to him,( his mouth open and completely asleep) when he had heard them talking. Rhaenys had clambered onto the bed and they were speaking softly and it was hard to hear them over his sisters subdued weeping._

_"Come here Little Sun, oh sweetling . . oh no . . that's right, the other side. I'm just a little sore. Now listen, it's well, it's going to hurt when I die darling/"_

_"Mama, please, please/"_

_"I can feel it Rhaenys. I'm so sorry darling. I want you to know though how much I love you and your brother. And to ask you something. You know my little secret drawer I showed you, there's a letter in there. When my brother's. . when they arrive can you give it to them? But you mustn't let your father see or Lady Lyanna. Oh don't cry darling, I can't wait for you to meet them again. I so wanted . .anyway will you do it? Oh good girl. I have been blessed. " she coughed and squirmed._

_"Little Sun, it's okay to be sad but you must not let it consume you. You have Egg to think of too and little Balerion too. You will have Elaena too, it's always good to have a friend you can trust. Trust sweetling is worth more than any treasure anyone will offer you." Her coughing got worse._

_"You have been so brave. The best, little princess and you must continue to work hard. Read all that history has to teach us and one day you can help lead your brother in the right direction. Both of them. This is crucial. Promise me. Be kind to Jon. One day you shall be in the centre of politics, you may have to act like a pawn in the game of thrones sometimes but never forget what you are. A dragon but also the sun. My mother told me sweetling . . " she wheezed," however dark or long the night may seem, the sun always rises. Always. . . My. . "_

_She was wracked with a coughing fit. But this one didn't end. Lady Ashara came running in. "Elia! Gods, wake the Maester. Oh, Elia. Please." Egg and Jon had fully woken up now and were huddled together as Lady Ashara picked Rhaenys off the bed. "Quick, get the children out. They shouldn't see this. She's . .she's gone downhill." They were picked up and taken from the room, protesting loudly. But even if you are royal, sometimes they were just children. Their last look at her was her writhing on the bed." Egg, Jon, Little Sun. . ." she stretched out a hand but then collapsed back onto the bed . . . . she was shaking. . Jon was shaking . . someone was shaking. . ._

Jon came back to himself as someone was shaking him. He looked up blearily, the taste of sugar still in his mouth. The nervous looking, young guardsmen from before was shaking him gently. "My Lord?" he asked uneasily. "How are you feeling?" The truth was he felt awful. Truly awful. His goblet that lay on its side. He looked up and saw his father standing there. He looked like he had slept less than Jon and there was a hopeful, desperate look on his face. Jon could hear that stupid melody again.

"You poisoned me." he croaked bleakly.

"A potion," the King amended, " to help you see. Did you see? The dragons. The future? What did you see?" He looked down at the papers. Sometime in his wanderings, Jon had made some scribbles most of them unrecognisable apart from one that looked like the portrait." The portrait? That's. . I wasn't expecting. . I mean that could mean . . . " he trailed off deep in thought. "The star? The pyre? No. Your Aunt well she has finally decided to talk." For a few seconds Jon thought he meant Elia but then he realised his father meant Daenerys. So she was here in the capital he thought. Wedding bells mixed in with Jenny's song. He thought he was going to be sick. And what did finally decide to talk mean?

"How are they? My mother, Egg, Rhaenys, Daenerys, are they well?"

The King stared back at him. "They are where they need to be despite Rhaenys meddling. She really is her mother's daughter in some respects. Perhaps I shouldn't have let Elia influence her so. I mean the perfume, it is mine." he raised his sleeve and sniffed. "Oh Elia, she should be here. The Gods were cruel to take her. The lady of the realm. We shall never see one like her again. I must go now. Our era is dawning." He swept out leaving Jon alone, his black cloak swirling around him like a shroud.

For a few days Jon attempted to plan. He went through some manoeuvres to make sure he was still quick on his feet. Lack of practice meant he was sore. He tried to piece together all the things he felt were missing from the overall picture trying to move past his guilt. His shame wouldn't help anyone, least of all himself. There was still too much he didn't know though. What was in Daenerys dream? He searched for messages from anyone in his food and clothes but found nothing.

Eventually the day he dreaded was here.

They told him to get dressed in fine robes of red and black. They led him to the great hall. A small, cowardly part of him had hoped he wouldn't have to see the ceremony.

His father stood in front of the Iron throne and what looked like a pile of wood in front of it. As he got closer he saw it was an intricately woven pyre, rectangular shaped and long with a four high straw walls. Nestled at the foot, just behind the King's feet were three eggs. They were, Jon had to admit breath-taking. Even to a crown prince who had seen many treasures they were clearly priceless and had an aura of power. For a few seconds his gazed were fixed on them until he saw who else was here. Two Kingsguard flanked either end and Daenerys stood in front of her brother. She stood straight but as Jon got closer he saw she was shaking a little, To the left stood his mother, Tyrion, Sam Elaena. The latter looked at him solemnly, a protective hand on her burgeoning belly, Tyrion gave him a rueful smile like he didn't know what else to do but his mother's face broke out in relief when she saw him. Rhaenys was then marched in, her fine dress that matched her Aunts ripped in an act of defiance. The guards left leaving only ten people in the room which was closed off from the rest of the world by an ominous lock.

"Father, where is Egg?" Rhaenys looked straight at him. "Father, I want an answer. We need to talk seriously."

"The time for talking is over." He gestured to the eggs behind him.

"yes, very pretty. But we need to discuss this. You know the realm/"

"Little Sun. Don't you see, you will be the first Dornish person to ride a dragon. A story of redemption."

"Don't tell me you mean Meraxes. . Gods that was over three hundred years ago. Look I don't want to ride a dragon and even if I did I can't because they've died out. Those aren't eggs, they're stones." she emphasised the last word.

"You will see, the realm/"

"The realm will be in riot if this marriage is held and is that wildfire? Please you are not your father. Bring Egg in and we'll all talk together. I mean the High Septon/"

"You mean like the small-minded Septon you got to marry Visenya to that imp. I don't know how your taste of friends has developed darling. No, we do not need him. Don't you see sweet one? Dragons are beyond the rules of men."

"Her name is Daenerys. She agreed to the match it's a fine one. And it's binding/"

"Not if nots consummated." The King replied with a note of triumph in his voice," and like I said we are beyond petty rules." Rhaenys shot Tyrion a dark look.

"Her name is Daenerys." The woman in question nodded her head in agreement. "She was named for the princess of peace. The Princess that bought Done into the realm. That marriage saved so much conflict. Your mother understood that. She loved my mother, she wanted to name her for the Dornish peace. You would spit on her last act? Forcibly do to your own children what your own grandfather did to his?"

"Yes, this isn't what anyone want Rhaegar and the dream I told you/" Daenerys began.

"Enough. The time is here. You must show me the respect I am entitled too. You will understand, and then you will thank-no rejoice once they are born."

"Even IF that happens, the fallout, they will be baby dragons, killed just as easily as . . cats. The realm is not for you father. We must work together/"

"What did I just say? These people are here for a reason." he gestured to Sam, Elaena and Tyrion. "Any mistakes like the perfume and they shall not leave this room." Jon looked at Sam who stared at his feet. This was his best friend, he was supposed to be at the Citadel. How could his father do this? When had he taken him against his will? "Father no, they are right and Egg will agree. You cannot force us." His father wasn't listening to him though, he walked to beside the pyre and began to arrange something at the right hand side. Lyanna sank to the floor. It was to Jon's surprise a stand to balance a portrait on. Jon felt sadness that Aunty Elia would have to witness whatever was about to happen. Even if it was with painted eyes.

The King was muttering to himself and Jon felt Rhaenys stiffen when he began to tug off the covering. There was the glossy, intricate frame, th swirling brush strokes but . . .

"The heir, the egg" the King muttered.

It was Egg's face that stared out at them.


	8. Rhaenys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo this is like months later since the last updates. I am promising myself never to start another new story without being a little more sure of how it ends. I think I need to add a tag to warn everyone it's about to get very melodramatic. When I started this fic I thought I would try and be more fair to characters but honestly I think a lot of them have come off very unlikeable and that's my fault. If you are a Rhaegar fan do not read this, you have been warned. All mistakes are mine, while re-reading for inspiration I realised how many there were,( I swear I do read it through but obviously not well enough.) All characters belong to GRRM. Feedback welcome. Way more people have read and actually taken the time to comment on this weird fic of mine than I ever thought so thank you for putting up with the erratic update schedule. I wish there was a way to let the users that have been here since the beginning know that I have updated this but oh well. I did write some prequel things which are part of this universe thing which might help with some of the context and background but aren't necessary to understanding this story. Also by the way, can't write fight scenes so I made them as brief as possible. Thanks for all the support.

He was painted in the same style. Beautifully rendered, the artist had captured his bright smile. Jon could feel the warmth of it from here and then shook himself. That wasn’t Egg, it couldn’t be but it was. . and did that mean? No, no . . it couldn’t. . no. Jon’s mind put up a huge, immovable blockage on that train of thought. He looked to the others at the side. Elaena seemed oddly calm, her hand still resting on her belly. She was staring at the King as if waiting to see what he would do next. Sam looked a mixture of confused and terrified. His big pale eyes fixed on Jon as if Jon could help him; save him . . . A bubble of laughter almost escaped his throat. A prince of the Seven Kingdoms and his own best friend didn’t know how powerless he was. Tyrion was breathing steadily and looking at the girls stood beside Jon as if to check they were okay. How could they be okay? How would anything ever be okay again? And then his mother. She couldn’t look at it but her grey eyes when they met his were filed with sorrow and despair. So it was true Jon realised numbly. Jon felt Daenerys breathe in and out, it coming out in harsh gasps.

“Why. . Why do you have that?” Daenerys asked the question that no other dared too. She tilted up her chin, shaking the silvery hair off her face so she could stare her brother in the eye.

" In memory.” Rhaegar said softly. He gestured towards the pyre. Jon couldn’t make out a specific shape behind the wooden sticks arranged in a rectangular like shape but the dark mass was long enough to be his brother’s body.

“No.” Jon uttered hoarsely. The King wasn’t looking at him though; he was looking at his daughter. He was dressed in red and black too, with a dagger strapped to his side and his crown on his brow. Rhaenys stared at the pyre that was to be her brother’s funeral site.

“I had too; I got it wrong you see. The star. It was so simple. Your mother. . I think she wanted to please me but her misleading well it cost a world of trouble. Look at me. I didn’t want to do this but great sacrifice is necessary. Like Nyssa Nyssa.”

“What have you done?” she looked at him beseechingly as if she was trying to understand. Jon wondered if she knew a tear was sliding down her cheek, she didn’t wipe it away.

“What was necessary. The dragon must have three heads.” He looked at all three of them. “Rhaenys, a gift to atone for the Dornish sin of the murder of the original. Aegon, the conqueror whose veins run with the blood of the dragon and the others. Visenya, the warrior queen of pure Valyrian descent.” Jon felt his blood run cold. Jon. His name was Jon. It was so much more disturbing than calling Daenerys Visenya. Visenya had never existed. If she had they all might not be here. Aegon existed, he was. . . he was lying right over there.

“When Aegon’s body is burnt and his death complete, you shall marry over the embers, like in the dream and the eggs will hatch, reigniting the glory of House Targaryen.” Rhaenys stiffened.

“And the grief.” Elaena said to no-one in particular. Jon thought that he might throw up. Dragons, the glory and the grief of their house. This is what the pursuit of them led to?

“I didn’t want to.” The King repeated. “He was a good boy. He tried his best but. . he was never meant to be. This is his purpose. I think he understood by the end. Everything makes sense now.” Jon remembered watching the King, no his father, watching his father watch Egg whirling around with Margaery at the dinner. He remembered thinking there was regret on his face. His father had been watching his brother dance happily knowing the outcome, knowing it would lead to this. Outrage soothed his urge to vomit.

“What are we waiting for?” Rhaenys asked her voice dull.” The full moon? The energy levels to adjust themselves? Your father’s ghost to appear to join us?” The King looked surprised and a little irritated.

“We shall begin now. You shouldn’t have ripped your dress. I shall get you another for later."

Lyanna was shaking her head. “What are you doing?” she asked Rhaenys her voice filled in horror. “You’re just going through with this? Why aren’t you . . .”

“What?” Rhaenys looked at her stepmother dispassionately. “What do you expect me to do? Stop this from happening? How?” Lyanna looked at her in horror. “That’s right isn’t it, you expect me to do something? To save you from this? I’m not my mother. Why didn’t you do something? You saw the signs and did nothing.” The last word made Lyanna flinch and she began to fold into herself, as if by making herself smaller the words would slide off her.

“Poison. . .you were. . .I know what you did.” Lyanna rasped her arms crossed across her stomach as if she had been stabbed.

Rhaneys ignored her and turned back to her father. “Your Grace. I have a request, I would like to say goodbye before he is burned.” Lyanna moaned and Jon felt himself freeze at her matter of fact tone. The King paused. “Please.” Rhaenys added, softening her tone. She took a step forward and tilted her head to the side. The King looked uncomfortable. “Father, it’s what mother would have wanted. A chance to say goodbye.”

“Very well. But don’t get too close.” He stepped aside and Rhaenys walked forward, her shoulders set shooting her Father a grateful smile and Elaena an undecipherable look. Jon wondered if he should follow her, if he should say goodbye too but he couldn’t. He couldn’t look at Egg dead. Even asleep Egg was always animated, his face full of hundreds of thousands of minute expressions. To look at his face smooth and expressionless. It would be an aberration. His whole life Egg had been there, a sunny, talkative presence. His world was no longer whole he realised. Rhaenys leant over the dark shape in the pyre that was their brother. Twigs had gotten stuck in her skirts, worsening the tears already in the fabric. Jon watched her kiss what he guessed was his forehead and lay her hand on his cheek. Jon felt a movement to his side and he realised his aunt was offering him her hand. He took it and shook his head at her silent mouthing” I’m sorry.” This wasn’t her fault.

“Which one is mine Father?” Rhaenys asked gesturing to the eggs. He looked at her doubtfully as if he thought she was making fun of him. Jon thought maybe she was. What was a dragon really compared to their brother? When he was younger and had heard tales of his ancestors adventures it had seemed an appealing notion. A huge, magical creature under his control.

_“If only you still had dragons.” Mused Sam thoughtfully one time then blushed as he tended too when he spoke up in their lessons all together. “I just. . well it would mean you have a great source of power.”_

_“Yes,” Elaena spoke quietly, she usually said less than Sam. “Power without limits, that’s what dragons mean.” Her face had been very serious and drawn as if the thought disturbed her, playing with her pendant._

_“There are limits to dragons,” Egg had argued, “Lots of limits. Like . . .well eyes. I’m sure Meraxes was having a fine time burning Dornish peasants until whoosh . . . hit . . aah screaming, thrashing in the air, missing body and so on.” he acted out Meraxes demise, waving his arms around. “Dragons, they are history, part of Valyrian culture.”_

_“There is more to Valyrian culture than dragons Egg.” Rhaenys scolded him. Egg had a habit of mocking her love of old Valyrian stories._

_“What do dragons mean to you then?” Jon had asked. At that moment his mother came clattering in announcing an impromptu horse ride so Jon wasn’t sure who else heard her answer._

_“Freedom.”_

Dragons had meant all of those things to Jon too. He looked at the three swirling stones looking like they had dropped out of another age. They looked magical but also dead. Egg’s life would give them life? Is that how it worked, a life for a life or in this case three creatures life? How could he bond with something no matter how spectacular knowing what it had cost? That’s what these dragons would mean to him. Egg’s life. Sacrifice seemed so noble in stories but is this how it felt? Like a pit of despair was opening up inside of you? He doubted Rhaenys would see these eggs as freedom now either.

“When they are born. . you will know.” The King assured her, smiling benignly.

“It won’t work.” Daenerys muttered to herself mostly. “I’m already married Rhaegar, I want to keep my vow.” She said that part louder. The King looked at their entwined hands and raised an eyebrow. Jon let go and instantly regretted it, why should he change his behaviour? His father was holding him hostage. Now every gesture seemed loaded with implications.

“You would rather be married to the imp/”

“That’s Jon Connington talking/”

“Jon is not the only one who calls him that. You really wish to be married this man? The Lannisters have never been true friends of ours. His father was /”

“So the children must pay for the sins of the father now?” Daenerys asked, suddenly angry. “You can’t think that, I mean, what about us?”

Rhaegar didn’t answer for a while and then he said, “Don’t you see. Of course you don’t, you didn’t know our father but I did. He may have been . . wrong in some aspects but he was right about our house. He just wasn’t the one to lead it out of the darkness. This. . however hard this is/”

“You are leading us into darkness.” Jon interrupted unable to hear this defence much longer.

“Yes,” Daenerys shot him a look of gratitude at the back up, “And this marriage? Rhaenys was right before, the Seven Kingdoms won’t accept it.”

“You think we should bow to the will of the masses? We are the blood of Old Valyria.”

“Well. .” Jon knew that Daenerys had developed a strong iron will since Viserys’ departure and that she was not inclined to bend to anyone’s opinion, “I love him.” She gestured to Tyrion who looked completely stunned by the news but nodded along.

“Yes.” Tyrion chimed in. “We are . .in love.” His voice was a little awkward; Jon had seen him tell much more convincing lies. They had both gone a little red too.

The King studied them both coolly, his face unimpressed. “When did this happen?”

“At Casterly Rock.” Tyrion answered. “It was a whirlwind romance and now we are married by all the laws of the gods.”

“No consummation, no marriage.” The King replied shortly not looking at Tyrion.

“Is that all marriage is, a bloody a sheet?” Elaena spoke up but was quieted by the King’s stare.

“She’s right, you married for love, why shouldn’t I?” Daenerys added pointing at Lyanna who watched them all a little blankly. “He’s . . my Queen of Love and Beauty.” The last part was blurted out and she was definitely red now Jon noticed. Tyrion glared at her as if to say _really?_

“I married for duty too.” Said the King’s surprise answer and his face went a little softer as he looked at his son and his sister. “It is a difficult day, the day you marry. I remember my first one, in front of the entire world to a woman I barely knew. You enter a commitment that lasts forever. But this marriage was destined; it is a relief in a way. Love is a fickle thing. It can creep up on you. It can consume you. If you truly love this man which I doubt this is an escape. I know you sister. Visenya, your flame burns bright but you don’t want it to flame out. This partnership will steady all three of you.”

“I’m not marrying them, I’m not Aegon, and I’m Jon.” Jon protested. “You can’t force us.” But couldn't he? Could Jon watch Sam, Elaena and Tyrion die?

“Rhaenys are you okay?” Elaena asked. She was bent over clutching her stomach, her face screwed up in pain.

“Princess.” Arthur exclaimed, hurrying to her side. She began gasping and he attempted to put his arms around her. Jon’s eyes couldn’t follow the speed of what happened next.

“Back away.” Her voice rang out, clear but Jon heard an edge that he had never heard before. Arthur put his hands in the air and began to back away slowly. ”Stand over there.” She instructed. Jon was dumbfounded until he saw the glint of a long dagger held at her neck with her own hand.

“Suicide is a sin.” Arthur said as he backed away.

“Yes, because the gods would completely approve of all this.” She replied sarcastically. Her gaze found Jon’s. “He’s still alive.” She nodded in his direction and smiled tremulously. “I checked, you said his death isn’t complete. You. . .you were going to burn him alive.” She almost shouted the last word at the King, her face turned angry.

“What is your plan?” The King asked.

“You can’t do this without me. I know this is a huge disappointment to you but I am your ONLY daughter.” Her voice rose on the last two words again and stepped towards him challengingly. “I won’t do it. I just need you to tell me what you gave him. What did you give him? Tell me.”

“I can’t. You’ll try to save him. His death is part of the ceremony.” The King looked at her very calmly. “You won’t do it. I should have known you wouldn’t accept it so soon. But using your mother as emotional blackmail? That was low of you.”

“Do you love me?” she asked him.

“What. . Why would you ask that?” he answered shocked.

“Do you love me? Look at me, I’m your daughter.” She repeated steadily.

“Of course.You are my little girl. "He looked back at her, straight in the eye.

“Then tell me how to save him.”

“It’s not that simple. You know that.”

“Yes it is. Father you took Balerion from me/”

“I-”

“You took him and you killed him, or you let it happen anyway. Then you took Elaena, you sent her away/”

“You know I did that for your own good, we talked about this/”

“Then you took Brienne. What would mother say? What will we have left if you do this? You can’t do this. I know you can’t. I won’t be able to live with this. If you kill him, I’ll die too.” There was a fraught silence.

“Do it then.” The King said simply. “Your mother. . to invoke her that is beneath you. She is here, I can sense her spirit. She would never forgive self-murder. I know you love your brother but you will survive this. I have survived such a grief and you are as strong as I. When it is happened you will see, I know you will. You are my daughter and no daughter of mine would do this. You are scared that is all. I was scared once too.”

“Put the knife down.” Lyanna said softly, “You’ll cut yourself. It's not what she would want.”

“That’s the point and stay out of it.”

“I know that’s the point but this won’t solve anything. Egg is. . gone.”

“He’s not gone, that’s the point now stay out of it.” Rhaenys snapped. “Stay back.” She ordered as Trant tried to creep towards her. “Both of you.” Arthur looked at her miserably. “What did you give him? What drug? What potion? We’ll call the Maester and why aren’t you listening to me?” The King just looked at her steadily. Rhaenys braced herself and began to cut into her arm. Blood trickled from her skin. “See there.”

The King looked at her and said. “Ser Trant, take Lady Elaena and slit her throat.”

Rhaenys gasped. “You. No. .”

Ser Trant began to walk over but Ser Arthur held out his arm to stop him. “What are you doing?”

“Yes, what are you doing? I have a request.” Lady Elaena straightened herself upright and clasped her belly. The King turned to her expectantly. ”One last request. Don’t make him do it.” She nodded towards her uncle.

The King looked at her suspiciously. “I wasn’t going too, I’m not a monster but why ask?”

“Because when my mother hears about this, she will never forgive him. Whatever you tell them whatever lie they’ll at least know he was nearby, that he knew to an extent what was going to happen to me but him, well he’ll always know. He will have to live with this for the rest of his life. He will have to look my mother in the eye. How can he? How will he? I don’t know. I’m an only child but you . . allowed me the opportunity to grow up here among brothers and sisters, I know of the sacred bond. If she knew he had struck the blow . . If my life is to end here and now let me not cause more undue pain to her. She is my mother, the only parent I have known. Apart from Lady Elia and I do not think I can save the late Queen from any further suffering.” That had been the most Jon had heard Elaena say . . well for a long time. He felt a muted pang that he hadn’t made more attempts to try and listen to her. Her bravery put his so called warriors’ courage to shame.

The King was looking at her a little puzzled then frowned and shook his head. “You, you are just like your mother. She always felt the need to interfere in my marriage. Little comments and so on. I wouldn’t put Arthur through this, he has been a loyal friend, subject and knight.”

“So you’re going to just make him watch while you do this? Father, stop.”

“Rhaenys, you should do what he says. My Lady, time is so precious and you have no other choice. Ask for something more worthy.” She placed her hand on her chest where Jon noticed her pendant was no longer there. He wondered where it was.

Rhaenys looked at the long pyre then at her friend, who Trant had moved behind, drawing his sword. Sam groaned and averted his eyes while Tyrion watched on grimly and shook his head.

"I want Brienne. I know she's still alive." The King considered her for a short while. "She was my mother's last wish." His face darkened.

"What have I said about using your mother like that? Drop the knife. I'll let the Dayne girl live and fine, Lady Brienne can be a witness. She's in poor shape anyway. Go tell the guard outside to fetch her, but make sure she is bound, she has inhuman strength that one." Ser Arthur went to tell the guard outside the hall and Jon felt a spark of hope. Surely someone would notice Brienne being dragged up here and bound like some common criminal?

"Very well. Have it your way. Don't hurt her." She dropped the knife with a clatter onto the floor and the King stepped forward ripping a piece of his scarlet tunic.

"Here, there is no need for this. My darling give me your arm. You are hurting. " The King said kindly.

Rhaenys silently offered her now quite bloody arm and he wrapped the fabric round her wound. "Bring me some water." he ordered Arthur whilst Trant remained to threaten the hostages. With the water he began to clean the blood away. "This reminds me of when you were young. Such a careful girl well when you got older you were. It meant when you did fall you fell hard. Like the perfume. Very clever. My clever little girl. I'm impressed, when Jon told me it all became clearer. The dreams especially." Rhaenys glared at Jon dully, the betrayal clear on her face. The King had finished mopping up her wound and began pulling her already messy hair out of its braid. Much of it already had come loose and he swept it over her shoulders, combing through the knots and curls with his damp fingers. Jon was disquieted and reminded of Daenerys when she was younger and would dress up her dolls and fashion them to her liking. He didn't know why he thought of that.

"I got the idea from that night." she said simply and his hand stilled and he moved away from her.

"Did you want to kill me? I forgive you if you did. I know you will see." The King asked her more in a curious tone rather than an angry one.

"No, I just wanted you gone. I would have made sure you were comfortable. It's Egg's time now."

"No." The King disagreed shaking his head. "My time is not over yet. I'm not some mad man you can just lock away. Lya was right, I allowed you too much freedom. I hoped. . well it doesn't matter now. You will see soon."

"Was it painful? Was he in pain?"

"No, no it was painless I promise. I don't want you to be unhappy about that."

"How can you know that it was painless for sure?" she asked with a catch in her throat. Jon wished she would shut up, he didn't want to think of Eggs' pain.

" The potion was made of the finest ingredients and the witch hazel means that his senses are dulled." the King promised then his face changed as he realised what he had said. "How dare you Elia? That is enough of your manipulations. We must begin. Stand here all three of you in front of me and the place of rebirth." The pyre Jon mentally corrected.

Getting married wasn't something Jon thought about a lot but he had definitely never imagined this. This was something out of a nightmare. Rhaegar went and got one of the torches from the sconces in the wall and held it before himself. Jon could fell the heat from the small flame. He remembered Rhaenys earlier words _burn him alive_ and winced.

There was a silence and Jon realised the King was waiting for Brienne. When she arrived he connected Rhaenys bloody looking appearance the last time he had seen her to her protector. Part of him was relieved it hadn't been Rhaenys covered in her own blood but it was still shocking to see her this way. She had become a fixture in his life. He had not grown particularly fond of her, every time he looked at her he was reminded of the smirking Lord Lannister and she lacked Tyrion's charm and wit to make up for that deficit. However he also knew that she was a diligent servant and her loyalty had been rewarded by this. Her face was the first thing he noticed and it was uglier than ever with a big scar marring its already plain features. Unlike Jon she had not been given fresh clothes and they hung off her smelling unpleasantly. Her hands were only bound by twine but by multiple pieces, overlapping and cutting into her skin. Her wrists looked like they had been rubbed raw and the skin was red and angry. Worst of all weirdly was her expression. She seemed ashamed as if this was all her fault. Her big blue eyes focused on Rhaenys stood in her fine gown and her messy curls and filled with tears. She blinked them away furiously.

"The witness is here. It's good actually. Queen Elia is here with us too. Finally we can begin. Join hands." The King said. None of them moved. Jon looked at where the knife was, just out of reach, lying on the floor forgotten but still, if he lunged perhaps he could get it. . and then what? The King coughed and Trant moved towards the three hostages and drew his sword. Jon looked at Sam who looked like he was trying very hard not to cry. He took his aunt and sister's hand.

"While the vows are spoken, the pyre shall light and with the rites I have already performed, so dragons will be bought forth once more and lead House Targaryen out of their dark age and into the light." He intoned in a manner of worldly wisdom.

"Wait, you're lighting it now?" Rhaenys asked looking at the pyre with pure dread. She looked at the knife and lunged The King did nothing to stop her but shook his head as if he was disappointed.

"This again? We've been through this." He sighed. "You are a dragon. Dragon's do not kill themselves. You are wasting time/"

He stopped abruptly as Rhaenys unexpectedly grabbed Lyanna and dragged her to the side, the knife now at her throat. Jon felt his stomach drop."You wouldn't." said the King. He put up his hand to stop the Ser Arthur advancing though.

"Rhaenys." Brienne's voice was hoarse, Jon suspected from little use. Brienne shook her head.

"Rhaenys, stop, please." Jon said feeling useless. He was useless? What should he do? What would the so-called prince that was promised do?

"He's going to kill Egg, burn him. I have too, I have no choice. And he's right. The suicide gambit won't work, I'm too much of a coward." Her voice was full of shame. " This is the only way. You want to control me, to control us by using the people we love? Fine. Well I can do that too." The last part was directed at the King. Rhaenys held her stepmother so her pale white neck was exposed for all to see, the point of the knife pressed on it. The King was shaking his head.

"You wouldn't. You couldn't."

"Oh really? For Egg? For this to be over? What other choice have you left me? Sam go and get the Grand Maester. Fine go and tell the guard to get the Grand Maester." With a nervous look Sam went to the door. "You are going to tell me what you gave him."

The King shook his head.

"You have too, you love her, I know you love her. Save her."

"I don't need to save her. You wouldn't hurt her. And like I said this was meant to come to pass. You cannot stop destiny."

“Just say it.” Lyanna spoke for the first time, she was almost begging. She reminded Jon of a famous painting he had seen in a book, of a beggar on his knees before some all powerful Essosi god.

“What?” Rhaenys asked distractedly.

“That you hate me. That you have always hated me.” The words came rushing out like a swarm of angry ants. Her face was a strange picture of relief as if she had wanted to say these words for a long time. “Just say it.” His mother pleaded. “I need to hear you say it.”

Rhaenys stared at her in a rare moment of shock, Jon rarely saw her so off guard. Then she sighed. “There’s no time for your dramatics.” She said.

“No. . . no, I’ve always known deep down, ever since you were a little girl.” Lyanna smiled through her tears. “Just say it.”

“I see, so you are excused? For everything you have done? I don’t hate you.”

“Yes you do. You are my punishment.” Lyanna wiped her hand on her face and hung limply in her step daughters grasp. “Who would have thought it? I knew my punishment would come, those dark eyes of you-“

“Oh shut up. This isn’t about you or me. It’s about Egg.”

“Eggs’ life for mine. I understand but please just say it. I need to hear you say it. My punishment.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. You are my punishment.”

“You can’t be serious. Don’t you see? If you had just stayed out of this/”

“Oh of course that’s what you want. Me gone, what you’ve always wanted. Don’t pull that face. Don’t do that. Play the innocent stepdaughter. Haven’t you had enough? Just say it!”

"I don't hate you! Why would I? You're just some woman he crowned at a tourney. You're no-one important. I will hurt you though to save him. Did you hear that? I will-I'll do it." As if to prove her point she pressed the point into a clear piece of kin leading into Lyanna's shoulder. A small amount of blood welled at the tip. No she's not, Jon wanted to shout, she's not just some woman at a tourney, she's my mother. "You love her. Save her. You started a war for her. Thousands died for your love. I almost died for sevens sake! You don't think I remember what it was like? Hiding under your bed waiting for you to save me? Just tell me what I want to know and I'll let her go. Surely your all-consuming love is more important than this, this stupid prophecy/"

“That is enough, if you don’t let her go, I will kill all three of them. There blood will be on your hands. I am your Father Little Sun.” Rhaenys snapped her neck to look at him and dropped Lyanna to the ground as if she was a sack of unwanted potatoes. She launched herself at him so fast Jon could have blinked and missed it. All he saw was her swirling black hair let loose from her long plait as she pushed him to the ground and they rolled over and over. She tried to reach for the dagger at his hip but he grabbed her hand and pushed it right back making her wince. Despite his slim almost gaunt stature there was still remnants of the warrior he had been in his youth. Jon felt very far away as he watched the King roll over on top of her and put his hands around her shoulders to shove her back onto the ground. Jon began to ran towards her, not knowing what he was going to do. He heard his mother gasp his name and turned and ran to her. She had a cut on her shoulder but otherwise was unharmed. "She'll kill him." Lyanna gasped. Jon shook her off. While he had been distracted Brienne had charged at an unsuspecting Trant using all her bulk to pin her to the ground even with her hands tied. Tyrion went to help her and Jon saw Lady Elaena pick up Trant's sword. Jon turned back around to stop his sister and father from killing each other but Arthur had already had that idea. The knight made to grab Rhaneys but Brienne pushed him off. and stood in his path. "I don't want to hurt you. I must protect my King." Arthur warned her.

"I must protect her." Brienne replied simply. Arthur sighed and cut her bounds and gave her one of his swords.

Jon began to make his way to the pyre. Before he got there though Rhaenys reached again for the dagger and this time wrenched it from him and kicked at his legs whilst he pinned her to the floor. "Stop struggling." the King commanded as she took the dagger and tried to smash it into his head. Using the distraction as he clutched his head she wriggled out from under him. "Jon get Egg. Put out the torch." she yelled. Jon ran to the pyre automatically but skidded to a halt when he reached it. The torch had come dangerously close to the straw but had by all the graces of the gods guttered out. He took in a deep breathe and threw aside bunches of sticks and bundles of straw until he reached the middle where his brother lay. He looked almost peaceful, lying on a black velvet in fine clothes and his hands clasped in front of him. He looked dead. Jon swallowed and reached out his hand to touch his brothers throat. He felt the slightest flutter of a pulse and up close he saw Eggs' chest move slightly. The relief he felt was overwhelming. Part of him had worried that Rhaenys had imagined it. That her grief had plunged her into deep wishful thinking. But there was still life there, still a chance.

"Elia please." he heard his father say. Looking across, the room was in chaos. He struggled to focus but here was his father sprawled on the floor with his hands in front of him in a defensive position. From this angle Jon couldn't see his face but he could hear the desperation in his voice. "Why? Elia. ." There was blood pooling out beneath him.

"My name is Rhaenys." Rhaenys said, her voice cracked with some unnameable emotion. She was stood above him, her hand clasping the now bloodied dagger. Lyanna cried out and crawled over to her husbands side and cradled his head in her hands.

"Lya. . ." he said. He stroked her face. Jon watched numbly as his mother wept over him, pleading for him to stay with her. Soon the Queen's dress was soaked with her husbands blood.

"I'm so sorry." she was muttering over and over. Rhaenys just looked at them and placed the dagger next to the dying King.

"My name is Rhaenys." she repeated as she ran a hand through her hair.

Jon looked back down at his brother, completely oblivious to all the destruction that was happening. He couldn't see Sam. Tyrion was comforting a crouching Daenerys by a very still looking Trant. Arthur and Brienne were still in the midst of fighting. The famous knight had the edge over beleaguered Brienne but when he saw what had happened, Jon thought he saw something inside him collapse. Brienne pressed her advantage and delivered a damaging blow. "Yield." she insisted but Arthur shook his head.

"Where have the gods gone? How can it have come to this? Ashara, the King, the madness. . it all comes back to. . "

"To what?" Lady Elaena asked. "In fact I'm not interested, yield." When he didn't she said very clearly and coldly." You were going to watch me die, I will happily return the favour, yield."

Jon felt completely cut adrift, like he was lost at sea. He could see people's mouths moving but could no longer hear any discernible language. He turned and saw the portrait, still standing and undisturbed by the chaos.

Jon felt red hot rage run through his blood, simmering to boiling point as he looked at the crafted image. How could such a piece of art inspire so much hatred? He thought of Lady Elia, hanging alone in her darkened chambers. What would she think of this? Stretching out his hand he traced the textured canvas with his fingertips. He felt the rage spike and he tore into it with his nails. Jon grabbed the frame and threw it onto the floor. It didn’t crack so he began to kick it and then got on his hands and knees and began to tear at it so large holes appeared in the picture. Egg’s smiling face became so distorted it was unrecognisable Jon thought with grim satisfaction. It wasn’t enough though, he thought wildly. It should burn, it should all burn. Like it never ever existed.

The doors burst open and a few guards came charging in. Jon thought he saw Connington but everything seemed unimportant now. He had to burn this thing, get rid of it. He felt a hand on his arm and to his surprise Elaena stood next to him, her violet eyes seemed anxious. There was something in her expression he didn't understand. Not until he heard the clear words next spoken.

Rhaenys stood up and smoothed the crinkles from her dress and the tangles in her hair and looked at Elaena. Something seemed to pass between them and then Rhaenys turned to the new audience.

" The King he, he has been murdered by the Queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo what do you think? Anyone know what is going to happen next?


	9. The Conflicted Jailor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon deals with the fallout. . .  
> Hi everyone, my notes still haven't been working so I'll just write my stuff here. I know it's been a really long time. The ending I had vaguely sketched out back when it became a multi-chaptered fic became useless when I changed my story halfway through, (I couldn't kill Egg, sorry.) The feeling I have is that this ending is not brilliant, I've actually split it up as the last chapter had become a monster hence the chapter count. This is more the aftermath, the previous chapter in my opinion is the most climatic of the story so if some readers want to keep that as the ending (which I considered) that's totally fine. It's a good ending I think. But for all those who wanted to know what happened next (most recently VitBur) this chapters for you. Again, thank you for all those who have commented and read this story, it was way more than I ever thought.  
> Also note, things may go into more detail in later chapters.

It had all happened so fast.

One second he was stood over the shredded remains of the horrifying portrait. Then he heard those words. Words that didn’t make any sense. He felt a hand tighten on his arm. Lady Elaena was looking at him intently and she shook her head. “Jon.” She pleaded with him seriously. “Just think about this.” Think about what?

“No.” He said hoarsely. He heard Connington call for his mother’s arrest. Guards swarmed in like millions of armour plated insects. Where had they all come from? He could smell smoke. There was the sound of shouting. “No.” He said more loudly and shook her off. He turned to look in his Mother’s direction, she was still clutching her husband tightly.

There was a shout as one of the torches previously unseen went rolling towards the pyre which on the far side had begun to smoke. Without thinking Jon turned and ran to his brother’s body. He pushed aside the woven sticks and clambered towards his body and began to drag it away. Everything else faded into background. He could not hear anything but the ringing of his ears and his mouth was full of smoke. His brother had always leant towards leanness and Jon was surprised about heavy he was. Through increasing coughing Jon grappled with his shoulders and hooked his arms underneath them and pulled him away. Flames had begun to lick at them like hungry dogs. He heard some shouts distantly and he felt the load lighten as there beside him was Brienne of Tarth. Her face was still a ruin, and her arm washed with blood but she used her strength to help pick up Egg’s feet with ease. They almost stumbled backwards in their haste.

They lowered him gently to the floor as guards surrounded them in an anxious ring. Egg lay there, seemingly undisturbed, his breath still even. Egg’s black robe flapped open and Jon saw to his surprise that some strange bundles had been strapped to his body with rope. Was there no end to his Father’s strange rituals? He pulled off one of the cloth bags, small but quite heavy and held it to his face. Its smell made him a little dizzy.

Brienne was looking at him with concern with her big blue eyes. Sound began to filter back into his consciousness. His Mother was still sobbing as a guard tried to separate her from her husband’s body. “Stop.” He yelled. He felt a hand on his arm but he didn’t care. Jon shoved past Brienne and her mournful, apologetic gaze. “Stop.” He said as commandingly as possible.

“She needs to be taken to the cells.” Connington snapped at him. “Is the prince well?”

“He’s fine.” Jon said distracted. A guard was trying to pry his Mother away. He took another step forward.

Conningotn held up his hand. “Stay right there. This has to happen. Let go of him.” The last bit was directed at Lyanna.

“It’s ok, Jon.” His mother said softly, gulping. Her face was red.

“Jon,” He heard Rhaenys begin quietly.

“No, just stop.” He interrupted. He could feel Brienne move behind him. Injured she may be but suddenly Jon felt the threat of her stature and prowess for the first time. Jon looked at his Father’s corpse and then looked at his sister. She stood there, hands clasped. Waiting for him, trusting him. His throat felt very dry.

“Wait! You have to stop, she didn’t do anything. You just need to stop.”

“What do you mean she didn’t do anything?” Connington demanded and Jon could see the cold loathing in his eyes but also in his swirling mind he heard a sharp curiosity. Jon opened his mouth. He could just say it and they would surround his sister, take her away, put her in a cell. . . he hesitated.

“It’s ok.” His mother insisted bravely.

“No, wait, she didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t.” he repeated as Connington had turned away from him in disgust. “She didn’t. . “ his head was spinning and quite suddenly vomit churned up his throat. He tried to swallow the urge to be sick but it came out in heaves relentlessly. He felt Brienne help him onto the ground but then felt her leave. Someone else knelt beside him and placed a cool hand on his forehead. He knew groggily who it was; in fact he was starting to come back around already feeling disgust at his clammy skin and loud display.

“Aaah,” he heard her say, he could blurrily see her holding the sack he’d found on Egg’s body. “Jon, darling, it’s going to be ok. We’ll fetch the Maester.” She said louder and bent over him, her long dark curls obscuring him from the rest of the world. Strands flickered over his face, wet with blood or water he didn't want to know. He could see nothing through her dark ringlets. “Please.” His voice was hoarse, but he knew she heard him. “Please.” He repeated, hearing his own desperation. “My mother. . she’s. . “ He felt something press over his mouth and recognised the smell.

_Her eyes were almost black, they had never seemed so fathomless._

Everything went black.

It was an even more comfortable prison than his previous cell. Being a prince did have some perks. It was nice he supposed for his sister to give him his own rooms as his cell, she had always been better at the softer touches than his previous jailor, his father. His chambers looked the same as they had done when he had left to go to dinner with his family and the Starks seemingly years ago. He spent two days lying in bed thinking, picking up a few of the books that lay scattered about and then putting them back, their pages unread. Most of the time he spent writing letters. Pots of ink he wasted beginning and scrapping various letters. Who should he write too? What should he even write? He began his testimony, kept rewriting it and rewriting it as if when he saw it perfectly transcribed in the written form it would make sense. The more he focused on some of the details the more lost he became. He could remember certain things, the way his Father’s eyes had lit up when he looked at the rocks, the strange desperation in his voice when he called for his long dead wife but those would hardly be of use to anyone else. He tried writing out the events as succinctly and straight forwardly possible in the barest of words. Strip away the emotion and melodrama to create a somewhat coherent account but it still pained him to see gaps he couldn’t fill because he couldn’t remember or just didn’t know. It could he thought be used as testimony if there was a trial. _A trial_. The word burned. He imagined taking the stand in some sort of court and telling the truth, watch how the court would turn against his sister, the beloved Lady of the Realm. If they even believed him. His words were real and true yet were they a match for her and whatever scheme she was undoubtedly cooking up right now? He doubted it. Jon tried to picture it, standing up to her while she looked at him as if he had betrayed her when she had betrayed him. Especially as he had inexplicably failed to tell the full truth earlier when Conningotn had arrived. Why hadn’t he? Just told the truth? Why had he hesitated? All his musing ended up doing was feeding the fire.

Sleeping was difficult too. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Egg on fire, his skin burning away from his bones, his silvery hair disintegrating into ash. He tried to rest; he knew she was coming to see him. It wouldn’t be in his best interest to be sleep deprived. Yet his family haunted him at night, his brothers ghostly corpse, his Father’s melancholy stare hardening to nothingness in death, his sister’s tears mixing with the blood of her wounds saying those words and his mother being led to the chopping block over pleas of her innocence.

Sam came first. It shouldn’t have shocked him; she was trying to get on his good side. First the room, now the friend. How much of her thoughtful actions he had always admired was actually manipulation if he asked himself honestly?

“How are you?” he asked as Sam hovered by the door like a nervous fly.

“Well, I’m good I mean just fine . . I . . How are you?” he looked very anxious. Had she told him what to say?

“How’s Egg?”

“He’s recovering.” Sam said brightly, “The Maester is very confident.” A wash of relief flowed through his tired body.

“Go and tell my sister that I want to see her.” Sam went pale. “Please.” He added.

“Jon-“

“Were you there? When it happened?” Sam shook his head but Jon knew him too well. The intelligence that he was too shy to brag about. Sam knew something was up even if he hadn't seen everything. But there was no point dragging Sam into this, his friendship with Jon had already posed a threat to his life. He had been used as a lowly pawn in the King’s showdown. It wasn’t fair to him.

“Please tell her.”

Sam nodded but before he left he walked over and laid his hand on Jon’s shoulder. ”I’m sorry.” Sam said softly and left after he received no reply.

Jon got his wish.

She came that night, dressed in an evening gown as if it was any other night. She looked beautiful. Their Father’s blood was scrubbed from her skin and cleaned from her long black hair back in its usual neat braid, slung over her shoulder. There was a silence.

“I wanted to come and visit earlier but I’ve been with Egg. He’s doing well, the Maester is very/”

“Confident. Yes I’ve been told. I’d like to see him.” He saw her flinch a little at his tone.

“Of course. I just thought we should talk first.”

“I’ve been here for two days. You could have come anytime.” he pointed out. She flushed and took a step forward. “What have you told Egg?” he asked her. She took another step forward.

“Jon.” She said softly and held out her arms for a hug.

For him to run to her like he had done when he was little. Sometimes he and Egg would race to see who got there first. They would leap at her, throwing their arms at her, knowing she would catch them. Aunty Elia had scolded them once for nearly knocking their sister over in the corridor and getting her bright red dress all muddy as they had been outside training. Egg would usually win, as he was older and faster but sometimes Jon would push himself that little bit further in the competitive spirit and he would win. Not that it mattered, the loser would be scooped up into the embrace soon after. Jon wished he felt that way now, that childish certainty of knowing she would catch him and return his embrace. How long had it been? He stepped away from her.

“Don’t.” He said hoarsely as he watched a tear slip down her cheek. “Please. I’ve been here for TWO DAYS. I know why I’m here. You know why I’m here. Where’s my Mother?” She wiped the tear from her face. “Where is she? If you don’t answer I swear to all the Gods, the old ones, the seven even the fucking Drowned ones I will break out of this room and run down that corridor screaming my head off. And yes I know people would think I’m crazy but I don’t care/”

“She’s fine, she’s been confined to her rooms/”

“Like me?”

Rhaenys sighed. “She has not been harmed. She was given a potion for hysteria and she has been placed in comfortable room while we. . decide next steps.”

“What? A trial? A- An execution?”

Rhaenys shook her head again and began to move towards him. He flinched away from her and felt a shameful stab of satisfaction at her sad expression. “Look I promise you it won’t come to that/”

“For the murder, the murder of the King. Why? I mean I understand why you. . did what you did. You did it because, because you h-had too but . . . well why did you have to blame her? It was self-defence. Egg would have pardoned you/”

“Don’t be naïve Jon! It’s not that simple, the death of a King/”

“So you blame her? It’s not right. What Father did. . I had no idea he was capable of . . that.” Rhaenys scoffed to herself and pulled at her hair so hard he was sure it must hurt. “Did you? Is that why you poisoned him?”

She looked at her long plait. “ I never thought he would hurt us like that. Hurt Egg or you or Daenerys like that anyway. Even Lyanna, he loved her, I know he did. Or at least, I don’t know. He was a difficult man to understand. As for the. . perfume . .it was for a good reason.”

“Because he was selling you to Robb Stark?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“What, what is it? Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

She hesitated and pulled her hair around her fingers. “Jon. . .” Something in his stomach dropped and he felt himself bracing as if for a blow. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

“You can’t leave me here.” He protested. “What is it? Just tell me the truth.” They stared at each other for a few painful seconds.

“I poisoned my mother’s perfume. I . . . had a bottle. Lady Ashara gave me all her personal things that weren’t in her rooms but Father sometimes borrowed it. He liked the smell he told me once. More than once actually. I never wore it apart from once and I gave the bottle away. When I got the new one, I got more than one and . . I had the idea to . . well add certain ingredients that would create a certain effect to one.” Jon stared at her waiting for her to continue. She pressed her lips together unhappily. “Look, it was a last resort and I had no idea he liked to wear it.” Her face wrinkled in discomfort. “The exposure made some of the effects more serious more quickly. What could I do? Why would he even . . he was in one of his moods, I hadn’t realised he had found out about Daenerys, I would have recalculated. . but when he asked for the bottle, well I could hardly deny him could I?”

Jon didn’t know how to answer that.

“I’m not the villain here.” She said quietly.

“What do you expect me to say? She’s my mother not some woman at a tourney as you put it. Was that kind of you?”

“Why should I be kind?” she sounded angry, almost indignant.

“That’s what your mother told you right? Be kind to me? That’s right she said something like that. Look after Egg and be kind to Jon so he doesn’t cause trouble/”

“How dare you?” Rhaenys looked a mix of completely outraged and shocked. “You. . how dare you quote her at her last moments. . as for. . my Mother was always, always kind to you, loved you, cared for you which is more than yours ever did! She looked at me like, like I was some kind of ghost” the choice of word made Jon’s blood run cold, “ She put so much pressure on me to/”

“Pressure you? Never, she always treated you well, that’s a lie about pressure, she’s very laid-back and/”

“Look, I don’t have time to this. I just,” she took a deep breath, “there’s a reason you said what you said in that Hall. Or what you didn't say, you kept quiet. You know I was right. You know.”

Jon shook his head. “I didn’t want to see you executed that’s why. I love you.” He felt stupid saying it. Like a child.

“I love you to. I would have done it for you. You misconstrued what my Mother said. . she I hope you know you are not. . I would have done it, would have you done it for me or just stood by?” She was trying to make him feel ashamed and it worked. He turned away from her.

“You haven’t told me the full truth about Father have you?” he said. “Even on that day the Starks arrived, you kept me in the dark.”

“I. . . you don’t know. . look we can discuss this another time.” He sighed in frustration. “Look I admit me, Egg and Lyanna, yes your precious mother too, don’t look like that she did too. We kept things from you but you. . there were times when you wilfully shut your eyes. Don’t deny it. I don’t even blame you. But you must have known deep down there was something wrong. You wanted to be a child for a bit longer/”

“Stop it then. Stop treating me like a child. Even now. Tell me what’s going to happen. You’re in control, so tell me." he demanded.

"You need to calm down. It's going to be ok. Your Mother will not be harmed, I promise as long as you listen to me. The story is out that our Father was acting strangely, madly even as unfortunately that word will always be linked to our family. It would be better to smooth that over but it's too late. People saw the pyre. It got out, we just have to deal with it. The court has been suspicious anyway as they had not seen most of the royal family for at least a week. So that's out. Your Mother killed the king to save him from himself." She emphasised that last part. "We'll avoid going into detail about Father, to paint him as the villain would be tempting but people need faith in the Royal bloodline. So three steps. A coronation. A trial for your mother where the King passes judgement. A betrothal. We can't put it off any longer. I can postpone the wedding to make sure the Tyrells don't fully take over but the alliance must be sealed."

He stared at her.

"Egg is feeling much better, he'll come to see you. In a few days he will be crowned King. You have to be by his side, my side."

"And if I'm not?"

She sighed as if disappointed in him for asking her that. "What other choice do you have?" He stared at her stonily. "This is what best for everyone. Egg is the King now, you can't hurt him, you are risking our dynasty."

"More than when you tried to push father out by spiking your own Mother's perfume?" Jon was not having her pin the current fate of the Targaryen dynasty on him.

"It was only to create more momentum. Everyone who truly knew him, the real him knew how unfit for the throne he was. I just needed some more visual evidence, some anecdotes to build up a certain picture/"

"This is all/"

"No stop. Just stop. Someone had to do something. I had to do something." she almost shouted. She took a deep breath." We do things my way and we will all get through this. All of us including Lyanna. Do what I say, Ok?"

There was another silence and he nodded.

"Egg will come and visit you soon." she promised, "And I'll get you some more books."

He nodded again.

“You don’t have to look at me like that.” Rhaenys said softly.

“Like what?” he asked, slightly puzzled.

“Like that.” She whispered.

“You made me choose.” He said simply. What else was there to say?

She looked at him for a long moment.

“I suppose I did.” She said sadly.

She left.

Egg looked healthier than he could have hoped. He was dressed splendidly in rich clothing, a deep red tunic belted with a black belt. His silver hair was much longer, nearly reaching his shoulders. He looked like their father. There was an air to him now, a gravitas that came with being the King. His brother was a King now. _The King now_. Before Jon could even say anything Egg threw his arms around him. Automatically Jon reciprocated and hugged him back. It was amazing. A miracle. His joy was suffused with a rush of hatred towards his father who had wanted to take this away forever. The King clung to him tightly. The euphoria faded a little. Jon knew without Egg even opening his mouth what he wanted from him. He let go.

“Jon, I’m so sorry about . . . this.” He gestured to Jon’s comfortable prison.

“It’s fine.” He replied shortly. And it was better than the cell their father had thrown him in. Had their father put Egg in a cell before he had drugged him and placed him on a funeral pyre? Could he even bring himself to ask that? Egg’s smile didn’t falter.

“I wanted to see you.”

“But she wouldn’t allow it?” Jon asked angrily. He was angry. Even when their sister wasn’t there she was between them.

“No, I needed to recover. I didn’t awake for a while.” There was a silence. Jon waited for Egg to ask what he was going to ask. “Jon, I know this is hard. I do. I have tried to piece together as discreetly as I can about. . what happened in that Great Hall.” He had asked her first, she had already told her side of her story. He would always ask her first.

“I’m not stupid you know.” Jon said. “I know why you are here. You want to know if I’ll speak up about what really happened. You’re here to try and find out my state of mind because she doesn’t want to face me again. She’s sent you instead as some kind of peace-making messenger.” He felt his anger flatten out as if he could no longer put the effort in.

“She was upset after your last meeting. And I’m not here as some messenger; I wanted to see my brother.” Egg looked genuinely hurt and Jon felt guilty. None of this was Egg's fault.

“She killed him.” _There the words were out here. It was what had happened. It was history, a defining moment of it. Even if no-one would ever know, at least he had said it out loud_. To his credit Egg barely flinched. So she had told him the truth.

“I know.” His simple reply left Jon feeling empty. They were discussing such an inconceivable thing. Their sister murdering their father after he had held them hostage and tried to burn his son alive. Thinking of it made him feel crazy.

“He deserved it.” Jon felt all the bitterness in his words. He would never be able to forget his father’s frightening demeanour of his last days. Already the earlier, kinder memories of his father were being clouded over like some all consuming poisonous fog.

Egg looked at him and sighed. “I should have told you about him, about what he could be like. I swear it was never that bad though. . . never so bad. . . he really lost it this time.”

“She was poisoning him.” Jon couldn’t help pointing it out.

“Yes, I didn’t know about that. I swear. But he had terrible issues Jon long before any of this. I still remember how scary it was after mother died. . .” he trailed off looking uncharacteristically sombre. “Can I sit down?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Of course. You can sit wherever you wish, My King.” Jon said teasingly, smiling as his brother rolled his eyes. He didn’t like seeing Egg sombre. But the expression returned once they sat at the edge of Jon’s bed.

“How much do you remember about Mother’s death?” He sounded very uncomfortable but gentle like a Maester asking a necessary but delicate question.

“I- I remember her illness,” though as he said it he couldn’t quite picture many memories apart from the last night, “her last night before her death. . the funeral.”

“And Father?”

Jon blinked at him. “Well. . he had the portrait.” It was the first thing that came into his mind.

Egg winced. “I’ve never understood why you two love that thing so much. . it’s . . . “ he shook his head. “When Mother died, he didn’t take it well. I’m not entirely clear about what his problems were before but he just. .” Egg stared off into the middle distance reminiscing." He became all blank. Rhaenys told me later that it was because Mother was so steady. He may not have loved her like a wife but she was his. . partner? I don't really know the right word. It was terrifying, like nothing was really in there, he'd become all untethered. Your Mother kept you away as much as possible. Remember you had to do all those extra lessons? Then the extra treats that those lessons warranted where Father was too busy to attend? He got over it though. He always did. But the strangest things could trigger it. And him and Rhaneys were never the same. You know last year, when she came out wearing that dress, part of me worried Father had bought it for her. That he wanted her to dress and act like Mother had just because she looked like her. So it would be like she had never really died." He saw Jon's expression and smiled. "Stupid I know but it was that kind of thing. Mother was a hill Rhaenys and Father could never cross to reach each other. Not that it was all about Mother. Being King, well I don't think it bought him any joy. He wasn't like grandfather, he didn't want to inflict cruelty on his subjects but I don't think any of it really interested him. His world view became narrower as he grew older I think." Egg mused thoughtfully. " I didn’t want to put you through that. We didn’t want to and we ended up shielding you from it. That was a mistake. He was your father too, you should have been able to see him as he truly was. Or at least what he could be like.”

“Don’t apologise, you’ve done nothing wrong. . I’m sorry. I ruined everything.” Egg looked confused. “I told my mother. She was freaking out about the perfume and I was trying to reassure her that wasn’t what was happening and it slipped out.”

"Oh it's ok. Who knows if it would have worked even with Rhaenys' meddling. It doesn't matter now. I'm still the King." He sounded less than enthused.

"Your Grace/"

"Don't. Oh Don't. You know people become even more obsequious with that title. Urgh. You know the crown is ridiculously heavy. Rhaenys says its to remind the wearer of the weight of power and duty but honestly I think the King who ordered it must have been scrimping so vengeful blacksmiths have decided to give his future heirs serious headaches." 

Jon smiled. "You don't have to you know. You could run away." He said laughing. Egg ad talked about what he would do sometimes if he wasn't heir, always in jest.

"And leave the throne to you or Rhaneys? Oh no. That's my duty. You are too alike sometimes. It would destroy you." The sudden change of tone made him uneasy.

“So everything else is. . fine?” he asked to change the subject.

“Well fine is stretching it. Lady Elaena’s been resting, the shock you know. .” Jon looked at him blankly. “Oh erm. . . Ser Arthur has been quite ill. Don't know if he'll make it. With Trant dead the Kingsguard definitely needs some recruitment. ” Jon remembered the white knights last interaction with his niece and doubted she felt shock about the possibility of his demise. How much did Egg know? “Sam well, I hope you don’t mind but I think he’ll probably return to the Citadel though I think Rhaenys will be monitoring what he publishes for the rest of his life. Tyrion and Daenerys are going to Essos.” He continued and laughed at Jon’s expression.

“Together?” Jon asked.

Egg raised a single silver eyebrow and smirked. “ Apparently there staying married for now. Rhaenys has told me that they’ll eventually figure out they want to stay married. Honestly plots within plots. He’s visiting the Iron Bank to reaffirm our treaty. If he doesn’t talk the representative to death. Your Mother is, well you can find out for yourself.” Jon looked up sharply. He had been meaning to ask him but to be offered out of the blue . . .

“She doesn’t mind?”

“I am the King Jon.” Egg replied simply. “You can see your Mother tonight of course.”

“And I can leave?”

Egg hesitated. “I think you should speak to your Mother first.”

His Mother looked very wan but she brightened when she saw him.

“Leave us.” Jon ordered the guards and felt a little reassured when they did.

“My boy.” She whispered as she hugged him tightly. Very tightly, after a minute Jon had to extricate himself so he could breath.

“Have you been eating?” he asked worriedly. She looked pale but surprisingly well rested, the dark circles having faded a little.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, and you? Oh it is good to see you.”

“I’m fine.” They looked at each other and she cupped his face. She was looking up at him, he was taller than her now he noticed. “I am going to Winterfell Jon.” She whispered excitedly.

“What?”

“Exile, they have offered me exile back home.” So that was Rhaenys’ play. No hanging, like she had promised. Exile, he should have guessed. It was a risk, some would see it as too merciful or as they would likely put it: weak. Also a problem out of sight didn’t mean it was solved.

“You are going to keep quiet?” he asked her, to the point.

Lyanna smiled at him softly. “What do you think I should do? You kept quiet too?” The words were accusatory but her tone wasn’t, it was almost warm.

“I’m so sorry/”

“No, no. You couldn’t have done anything. I, - I was never as quick as she was but it still came as a surprise. I don’t know why. I couldn’t even think, he was on the floor. . there was so much blood. . I couldn’t think. .” her voice cracked a little. “She was right you know, I did nothing, I well I saw some of the signs and I didn’t want to believe.” She said suddenly. Jon couldn’t quite follow. “It wasn’t your Father, he wasn’t. . . that wasn’t the man we knew and loved. That wasn’t the man I married."

“It wasn’t?” he asked.

“The man I married . . .” she trailed off, “Anyway me and Rhaenys have come to an agreement of sorts if not an understanding.” Jon reached to touch the part of her neck that Rhaenys had pressed her knife too. There was only a faint mark left blemishing her pale skin, nearly obscured by the edge of her dress. If you weren’t looking for it Jon thought you wouldn’t probably even realise it was there.

“Yes well, it’s okay, a little scarring of course but I always knew in a sense what was coming.” She saw his expression and hurried to explain herself, “Not specifically but I guess I always figured some sort of confrontation might take place or that we could just live with the resentment I suppose.”

“You’re fine with all this?”

“I don’t have much choice but it doesn’t matter once we are back at Winterfell, it will be like a bad dream. We can move on. And I can remember your father properly. Mourn without all this.” She gestured around vaguely and Jon wasn’t quite sure what she actually meant. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been there. But yes, I can mourn him. It will be like before we came here. Before the war. Before the pointless deaths. Before all this stupid pageantry. Before I met her.”

“Rhaenys?” Jon asked quietly.

"What? Oh, no. The Queen."

Oh, Lady Elia.

“I didn’t really think much about her. That sounds awful doesn’t it? I was in love with him. How could I not have thought of his wife, waiting for him back at the capital? I mean she crossed my mind of course, especially in the tower your Father built me but if I’m honest I never thought that. . . “

"What?” he prompted.

“I got it into my head that well . . . she was his Robert. He rarely spoke of her and he said she longed for home. Yes he said it in such a way, so intensely I remember it. She longs for home.”

“You thought she would go back to Dorne?” Jon asked the obvious disbelief colouring his tone.

She blushed. “I was young and well naïve I suppose, I thought “This was never my home. He said it best Connington, of all people and he, . . well he liked her as much as he likes me. The Lady of the Realm. I could never compete with that. I never had a chance. When she died her daughter took her place. There was no room for me. Competing with a ghost.” She smiled wryly. “Now you’re father is gone, it’s time. . to go back home.” She took his hand. “It’ll all be fine, well not fine

“You don’t want to go do you?” Her voice held a hint of incredulity as if she didn’t believe her own words. Her grey eyes seemed to swim with a mix of confusion, desperation and sadness that tugged at Jon’s heart. But he hesitated, snowy exile in Winterfell, that almost magical place of his Mother’s dreams. . . not his dreams.

“Of course I do Mother.” He replied slipping back into his old habit of pleasing her. He couldn’t leave her. With his Father gone, she was more alone than ever. Her grief would be immense, she would need support.

“Don’t.” She took her hand out of his and he felt a flare of panic at her distress but instead of turning away from him in misery she cupped and smoothed his hair away from his face. “You’re lying aren’t you?”

“Mother,” he started but he didn’t know what to say, he was lying.

“Sssh, my darling. You know when I was your age all I wanted was my Father to listen to me. It’s not that he was cruel or didn’t care for me. . he just didn’t listen.” She had begun to cry but shook her head when he opened his mouth. He put his hands on her shoulders as she gulped. “I tried to tell him about marriage. . I just wasn’t ready.” She sounded so young. “I felt like I was repeating myself and as time went on it became harder and harder. It became more and more about Robert himself. I – I just felt like I needed to escape. Benjen was too young, even Ned, darling Ned didn’t really listen so don’t lie to me, please Jon I beg of you, don’t lie to me. I stopped trying you know, told my Father what he wanted to hear, it’s lying Jon, lying by omission and that’s . . You don’t know how much I regret stopping trying to get through to him. Then it was too late. I don’t want us to be that way. Never. My Father deserved better, I did and you do too.”

She had never told him this before.

"You need a life, a life that is your own, my darling."

Late that night he thought of his options. He could go into exile, live with his Mother in her homeland. Or he could stay here be with Egg and Rhaenys, whatever that would be like now, What was his place with either? Or he could try a third option.

“I know what I want to do.” He told Egg the next day. To his surprise Egg didn’t look that shocked at his idea.

“Ok,” Egg said simply. He sighed. “Are. . .are you sure?” Jon asked hating himself because he knew deep down Egg would agree. Aegon the Sixth but he was still Egg to him.

“Of course, I mean it’s not forever is it?” Egg asked.

“No, no . .I just think it would be good.” He smiled at him reassuringly.

The door opened and Rhaenys came in. “Sorry I’m late, what did I miss?”

The coronation was a grand affair. Egg was solemn and stately throughout the ceremony as all the people considered important watched on. Jon stood as promised by his sister's side at the front. He watched silently as the High Septon anointed him with oils and lowered an admittedly ornate, heavy-looking crown upon his silver head. There was a polite round of applause. Gossip was still running rife. The courtiers still didn't quite know what to make of his quick ascension Jon guessed but Rhaenys didn't seem more worried than usual. She had been on edge the whole ceremony, her piercing gaze even more intense than usual. He was reminded of Father when deeply engrossed in a book. That was the level of intensity she stood and watched their brother become the most powerful man in Westeros.

"Do you see now, what was at stake?" Rhaenys whispered, smiling lovingly as they walked back towards the doors, trailing behind the King.

Jon didn't reply.

Outside the reception was warmer.

Thousands of small folk who were much more used to and infinitely preferred Egg and his sunny manners to their Father, a romantic but remote and distant figure cheered as he exited the Sept. Jon was overwhelmed with the sheer numbers who flocked here and called out his brother's name as if it was holy praise. Since he was a boy Aunty Elia had insisted on taking them out on day trips to the city, Egg especially. Only now did Jon see the true value of that investment paying off. They had loved the playful boy and were now more than ready to welcome the man.

Lyanna was not to be sentenced publicly, in front of the people of King’s Landing.

There was a trial though. The pliable High Septon was there and made an earlier appeal to the King and the people for mercy for the fallen woman. He would receive compensation Jon was sure.

The King was the one though who presided over it, sat above all others on the Iron Throne.

The court was invited and witnessed Lyanna’s trial. Jon hadn’t wanted that, had even thought it risky but it was out of his hands. “The less secrecy swirling around this matter, the better we can control this. There will be theories and Maesters for years to come will credit outlandish rumours but we need an official story. A narrative we can control. Court is a hungry pack of wolves, we need to give them some meat otherwise they’ll ravage something elsewhere.” Rhaneys had advised Egg.

Jon wondered if she had also written is Mother’s speech. It was short but quite powerful. Standing there in the middle of the Great Throne Room she looked very alone. She had been dressed by Rhaenys he was sure, in a way to emphasise her vulnerable, youthful aspect and feminine beauty. She asked for the amount of mercy that the King in his heart could spare for her. She explained how the King had lost his senses after the burdens placed on him as King of Westeros.

“He saw enemies where there were none. He was such a good man, I loved him with all my heart” there was some outraged grumbling from the court there mixed in with some sniffled from the more romantic ladies. “I loved him so much that I couldn’t bear to watch him do something so terrible. He had become convinced that someone was trying to hurt his children so he drugged his beloved heir and Your Grace, I believed your life was in danger. Your Father he” her eyes filled with tears. Had Rhaenys told her to cry? Probably. “ I wanted to save him from himself and you too. I may not have bore you but you are a son to me.”

“I know Lady Lyanna. My Father was very troubled in his last few weeks. It pains me to think of what he must have been going through to betray his family and turn his back on the Gods.” He looked to the High Septon who nodded ponderously. “I have searched deep in my heart in this issue. I know some people of the court call for your death/” there was a few shouts of approval but Egg held his hand up silencing the court. King Aegon now. The throne seemed to rob the bright youthful energy that had always defined him. “The High Septon has informed me that ordering your death would not be an auspicious way to begin my reign. A reign I hope will bring joy and happiness to the realm. It should not start with me denying you mercy. I believe you personally when you say you felt you had no other choice. I also cite my Father’s enduring and all consuming love for you in my decision. He as all know loved you so much he defied all known traditions to have you by his side. I know My father, a man who had such a big heart would not want to see you suffer. You have raised your hand against the King so despite the love I still bear you, you cannot remain here. I therefore by all the powers vested in me by the gods and the realm banish you to the Winterfell. You must not leave this Northern castle and its bonds. You must never return.”

Lyanna sobbed.

They had arranged for Lyanna and the Starks to leave under the cover of night. Jon knew his uncle disliked the implied air of criminality in fleeing in the night. His Uncle had watched the while criminal proceedings with (Jon guessed as he still didn’t know his uncle particularly well) a cold rage. “He knows.” His mother had said, “Not what happened exactly but well, he told me straight to my face that I could never do such a thing. I’m still that young girl to him, even now. Don’t worry, I’ve begged him to go along with it. Poor Ned, but I’ll make it up to him. He doesn’t want war anyway.” She had been packing one of her trunks. Around fifteen years she had lived here but Jon was struck with how little possessions she had amassed. Most of it was clothes, things she had sent for from Winterfell and a few of her favourite gifts she had received as her years of Queen Consort. He was helping her fold a few dresses when he spotted a box. “Don’t touch that.” She said sharply. “It’s just things from your Father.” Her tone softened a little at his expression.

Saying goodbye was terrible. He hugged her desperately suddenly very scared at letting her go. She had always been there, he had never gone without speaking with her for very long.

"There's still time, if you've changed your mind." she offered. She had been surprised when he told her what he wanted to do.

He shook his head. "I'll come and visit though. I promise. For moons and moons. And you can show me everything." He clasped her hands.

"Enjoy your adventure, darling. Enjoy it. Just make sure you know that there are places for you to come home too. I love you. You made it all worth it. " Se reached up on her tippy toes and kissed his head.

"Lya." Ned said gruffly but warmly.

"I love you." She said again.

"I love you too." He gave her another hug.

Watching her ride off in the carriage was one of the hardest things he knew he would ever do. 

The betrothal ceremony was easier in the sense he was becoming used to smiling now even though it hurt his face a little. It was in a way even stranger though to witness. His whole life he knew Egg would be King. He also knew in a roundabout way that he must have a Queen but Jon had never gone so far as to picture her. He had on growing up with his own parents love story just assumed one day Egg would meet her or see her and then that would be that. Thinking that now made him feel foolish. There was so much more to it than that.

Margaery Tyrell was fair and her Mother had given birth to several children who had lived past infancy so she passed the Queen's basic checklist. But she was so much more than that. She was clever and knew exactly what she wanted. She also had a very ambitious family.

"Guess what Jon? Mace Tyrell has kindly offered to join the council?" Egg grinned. "You wanted this," he pointed dramatically at Rhaenys who was puzzling over accounts in the corner," You'll have to deal with him at the meetings."

"I hope you atr not suggesting you won't be attending those meetings." Rhaenys replied sternly.

"Look if it's the choice between protecting the realm and listening to that man. . . well I don't know I think I'll have to break my vows." Egg said mock solemnly.

"Hmm, a week, that must be a new record." Rhaenys said making a note.

"Yes even Aegon the Unworthy must have lasted longer. Will they call me the more Unworthy or do you think that's too much of a mouthful?"

"Well I don't know. He might have lasted less than you. Certainly on his marital vows anyway." They both laughed and Jon smiled along but it was a little forced. These exchanges were becoming more common but instead of making him feel more comfortable it was doing the opposite. A return to his life before everything even the uneasiness was impossible and their sunny smiles didn't cover the loss of his Mother's company. It made him more sure that getting away would help, he didn't want to snap and poison the mood. He knew Rhaenys didn't approve, he could feel her gaze on him often, watching his every move. Not that he had much to do anyway. She wanted to change his mind he knew but he suspected Egg had interfered and put his foot down. Jon was still careful to avoid being alone with her though.

The actual ceremony lasted not that long at all. He knew despite Egg's japes about the expectant thorny good family he at least liked Margaery which was a better start than many others. The people also liked her and her winning shy smile. The roars from the crowd could have deafened him. The King and Queen they had longed for. Young and full of possibility and without the awkward situation of Egg already having a wife tucked away in the castle.

A week later, he and his companions were ready to set off.

“Are you sure about this?” Egg asked him on the docks.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Then I’ll count down the days until you return.” Egg hugged him in front of the cheering crowds. Thousands of smallfolk had gathered in throngs to see them off. They screamed, shouted and cheered at them. Some waved bits of dyed cloth or offered small gifts which humbled him. Looking at them confirmed to Jon how sheltered he was. This is what he needed to do. He bade Margaery farewell and the others who had come to see them off.

Last was Rhaenys.

Her face was very still and he knew she was trying to think of what to say.

"Goodbye, I will see you soon." he told her and took her hand to kiss it.

For some reason she looked very upset. They had been dancing round each other for weeks and now at least for a time this was the end.

"Is that all?" she asked softly.

Jon hesitated. There was still so much to be said, the words burning in the air between them but now was not the time. They had missed their opportunity back at the castle. It would have to wait.

"It all worked out for the best considering." she tried again, gripping his hand.

"I wish you good fortune sister." e said formally instead of a real reply as Tyrion was beckoning him a touch impatiently.

"Remember what I said." she said quickly.

"Which part?"

"All of it."

On the dock, he watched the figures become smaller and smaller as he drifted further into the sea. He felt sure, as the sea sprayed his face with salt that she was the last to disappear, still watching him. The image was almost lonely. The thought made him forlorn. 

His conflicted Jailor.


End file.
